


The Trash Heap

by iheartfictionalbadguys (jtedrick)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Apocalypse, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, House Elves, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Metamorphmagus, Reincarnation, Time Travel, Veil of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 112,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jtedrick/pseuds/iheartfictionalbadguys
Summary: Story fragments and one shots, some crossovers and several of my favorite cliches. All balled up in one heap for mass consumption.





	1. hp/thor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Harry Potter/Thor crossover. It is as complete as I will ever make it. Feel free to adopt the idea, just link in the comments so that I can read it =) ... Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own anything. All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and uh... who even owns Thor? Well, it's not me at any rate.

Mortal Gods

-0-  
Sitting on the cold grey stones that lined the shores, he stared out at the winter waters as the ocean raged. It was cold, even for the region. He feared when winter finally came, many in the village would die. First the old and the very young, then the men like him--who would have to brave the churning seas for food.

“Haralder, come.”

Harry stood swiftly and strode with confidence towards his father. The clan leader had insisted they go a Viking despite the weather. He’d never been fond of raiding, but it was either take what they needed or die. The echo of his past life always railed at the idea. Here in this world though, there was no place for modern sensibilities. 

Magic thrummed under his skin like electricity as he tried to calm himself. 

“Eriker has made an offer of Sigyn,” his father chuckled.

Harry’s foot slipped on the smoothed grey stones, shooting the older man an unimpressed glare. He might have set aside unrealistic morals to survive, but he would not be taking a wife at fourteen. 

“Don’t look at me like that, your brother married younger than you,” his father grunted.

This was a hard life. Between sword and strife, a small part of him could acknowledge the truth of his father’s words. He’d been a man in spirit since the day of his birth, but he was also a man in body.

“Fine, but not until winter breaks,” Harry relented quietly, it was always possible that Eriker would refuse to wait. He was a little too much of a berserker for things like patience. 

His father clapped him on the back and grinned, “She’ll be a good wife to you, give you many children.”

-0-

He’d learned early on in this new life, there were no others like him here. No magic in this world, at least, none that he had found. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any instances of accidental magic as he wasn’t sure how his new family would have reacted. 

The long boats began to ground, as warriors leapt onto the shore faces a fury. Harry pulled the long sword from his back and readied himself. The crackling energy he kept so carefully hidden, races along his body, strengthening his muscles and bones. Using his magic to improve himself physically made him larger, stronger and faster than he had any right to be.

Running swiftly toward the village, he knocked a combatant out of the way and searched for the stores. Unlike many of his fellows, Harry actively avoided attacking anyone that wasn’t armed and willing. Violence was a language most people of this age were wholly fluent in, and almost all of them were willing.

“Larson!”

Harry parried another thrust and kicked the other man in the knee, landing a blow on the side of his head. Turning he scowled at Eriker’s oldest son Kollr, “What?” Harry snarled and ducked an overhead blow by half an inch.

Kollr pointed back and Harry shot a quick glance and swore. His father was fighting four men and losing, badly. His father stood a full head taller than all the men that surrounded him, making it all the more easy to see a blow cleave into his shoulder.

Harry screamed in rage and ran at the men, bisecting one into two pieces before the other three even noticed his approach. In the end, all four men fell to Lars and Harry’s swords, but it came at a high price. He knew his father was not long for this world. 

-0-

Haralder returned to the village as the last living Larson, having lost his older brother months ago to sickness and his younger sister to childbed. 

There was no time to grieve; however, as the worst winter in living memory rolled in with vigor, freezing people in their sleep. The longhouses were packed with men and livestock alike as everyone tried to stay amongst the living.

It was frustrating not to have a wand. There were so many ways he could help if only he could get his magic to work as it had. For years he’d been trying to work on wandless magic, with very little success. Oh, he could float something, or push it away, but beyond moving things there hadn’t been a lot of improvement in the past couple of years. 

This as far as he could tell wasn’t the past. It was a different world, and the gods knew, this body was quite different from his old one. A part of him worried that he would never regain full use of his powers. There had been some ways in which magic worked for him, that would never have before. 

Lars Börnson had been tall, even by his people’s standards, easily reaching over six and a half feet. A trait that he had passed on to all of his sons, including Harry who was closer to seven foot than he was six. Though he firmly believed those extra inches came from the new ability to infuse his entire being with magic. 

Not only was he taller and stronger than the others, he never got sick, or cold and had near perfect vision. A far cry from the short skinny bespeckled wizard he’d been. 

-0-

“Haralder, Kollr, and father never returned,” Sigyn worried her hands in the skirt of her dress.

It was unlike Eriker to be late, not when it was so cold. These days tasks were done as quickly and efficiently as possible. For them to have been gone for over six hours was worrisome.

“I’ll go out and check on them, they shouldn’t be far,” Harry offered and pulled Sigyn into a hug.

The girl melted into his chest with relief, “Thank you.”

“Nothing could fell your father Sigyn. I’ve seen the man take down six men at once, it will be fine,” his large hands nearly encompassed her entire waist as he drew her away from him.

She nodded warily, large wet eyes glancing from him to the door in concern, “I made something for you,” she whispered. 

Harry quirked a brow as she scurried off to where she bedded down at night. Her blonde head ducked down out of sight and Harry chuckled, wondering what in the world she’d made him. As she approached a moment later, his eyes grew wide.

“I was going to give this to you in spring, for our wedding,” she trailed off as her cheeks suffused with heat.

He took the heavy, leather fur-lined, hooded cloak from her and admired it, “This is a fine piece. Thank you Sigyn,” Harry leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss.

Sigyn’s pale blue eyes dilated. She panted and brought a hand up to her mouth, before shaking her head and smirking, “You better come back Haralder, there are a few other things I’d like to give you.”

“Oh, more gifts,” he chuckled.

She playfully slapped him on the chest and gave him a wry smile, “Be careful.’

-0-

A dark figure lay on the ground half covered in white, right inside the tree line. Harry jogged through the knee-deep snow, his breath puffing out in little clouds. Already the scraggly beard he’d just managed to grow was gathering ice.

“Kollr?” He shouted recognizing the other man’s cloak.

Reaching down he grabbed Kollr’s shoulder and turned the man over. The body was already stiff with death. Kollr’s face and hands were black, his sightless eyes frozen open. Harry gasped and drew back. Even if the man had died six hours ago, there shouldn’t be this level of frostbite.

“Eriker?” He yelled into the thick of pine, “Börn?”

Pulling his long sword, he held it out at his side at the ready and closed his eyes. Pulling on that pool of energy that was inherent to him, he felt it envelop him and the sword. Letting out a sigh, he followed the partially buried tracks deeper into the wood.

“Eriker!”

The wind tinkling through the ice-covered boughs were the only sounds aside from his own panting breath.

“Börn!” 

The crisp sound of his voice echoed loudly deep into the darkened forest. His head jerked to the side at the faint sound of metal on metal. Turning in that direction he began to run as quickly as he could through the pine and snow. Fifty yards in he found what was left of Börn. The man was dangling from the trunk of a large tree--held there by a giant lance of ice that pierced his chest. 

Harry stepped back and tripped over a root landing on his ass. Looking up at the body he saw Börn’s neck had a black handprint on it. Frostbite in the shape of a hand, Harry shook his head in confusion having no clue as to what would cause that kind of damage.

Crawling back up to his feet he got a better grip on his sword and ran toward the sounds of fighting.

“Eriker!” He called out as he arrived in a clearing. 

What he’d thought was Eriker fighting, was something wholly unexpected and alien. Several men in well forged glittering armor were fighting against a dozen or so giant blue men. 

A blood-curdling scream tore from the throat of a man on the other side of the clearing. Harry’s eyes trailed over the scene and watched as one of the blue giants picked the man up by his neck. The skin immediately turned black and began to wither. Harry’s green eyes narrowed in fury, these--men had killed Eriker and his sons.

With a growl, he pulled up as much magic as he could and ran at the giant. He was a good two feet shorter, but that wasn’t going to stop him from taking the bastard out.

The blue man chuckled a deep rasping sound, dropping the now dead warrior in his grasp to the ground and turned his attention to Harry. He gave him a mocking smile and flexed his hands. Both blue hands were immediately filled with long sharp pieces of ice.

Harry danced back out of range. The giant followed him forward under a flurry of strikes that were a little too close for comfort. With a single-mindedness that he was known for, Harry focused on the much larger warrior. With a rush of energy, he swung his sword faster than the other man was prepared for. Those calculating red eyes widened slightly when his steel shattered both ice lances. 

The giant snarled and flung the shards into Harry's face even as two more were summoned from the ether to replace them. Unknown to him, his eyes began to glow with power, the ice pelting off him with hardly a nick. 

Something was growled at him as Harry pushed the blue man back putting the giant on the defensive. Finally, he saw an opening and landed an uppercut into the giant’s ribcage. The cut was deep but not a mortal wound as it should have been. 

The giant screamed at him in rage and grabbed his sword hand at the wrist. Harry chanced a small look down at the bitterly cold blue skin against his. There was a bite to the hold, but nothing debilitating. He quirked a brow at the other man and laughed, bringing the dagger that had been in his belt, up with his other hand. The blade sunk into the back of the blue man’s neck.

The large warrior thumped to the ground like a two-ton puppet with its strings cut. 

A howl of grief from nearby was the only warning he had to an audience. Another of the giants rushed at Harry wielding a pointed ice staff. The resemblance to the warrior he’d just killed was strong. 

“Come on then!” Harry screamed as the man neared.

“I’m going to skin you alive mortal!” The man hissed.

Harry chuckled, “Mortal! Like your friend there?” He motioned to the dead giant, “The bigger they are the harder they fall!”

Both men screamed above the cacophony of the battlefield as their weapons smacked together. The giant parried and managed to bring a foot up, planting it into Harry’s stomach. His breath left him in a rush as he flew several feet through the air and landed with a heavy thump. He jumped to his feet and readied himself as the other man charged. Using his momentum he grabbed the giants shoulder with his bare hand and flipped him over, twisting his body he turned and drove his sword through one red eye impaling the giants head onto the frozen ground. 

With a grimace, Harry put his foot on the giant's shoulder and tried to pry his sword loose. The bitterly cold metal snapped, leaving him with little more than a handle.

“Shit,” Harry swore and looked around the clearing.

Both sides had lost several men, their bodies littered the area. Those that were still fighting were moving further away toward a bright light that seemed to be coming from the sky. He pried a sword from the hand of one of the fallen and gave chase. 

Swishing the sword through the air to get a feel for it, he admired its workmanship and balance. It was a much higher quality of metal than what he’d been used to. 

Farther toward the column of light the battle intensified. Now it was easy to see just how many men were actually here, it was more than he’d originally thought. This was more of a full out battle than a dozen in a skirmish. 

More of the armored warriors were appearing in the light, running straight into battle as soon as they’d--landed. They seemed to be fighting in the direction of the stone quarry. Harry doubled the grip on his sword and ran with the group. The temperature continued to drop the closer they got, stinging his eyes and making them water.

There was a crack in the quarry wall, one that was now spilling blue giants in a steady stream. With them came a cold the likes of which he’d never experienced. Many of the armored warriors around him were visibly affected. Harry thrummed his magic along his body, giving himself a renewed strength and protection from the elements. 

When the cry for battle came, Harry rushed the line with the others. His ability to touch the giants was utilized to great effect. There were no others on the field that could do the same. Strange, he thought, that they have magic but can’t protect themselves against the cold. 

“What’s this? A little mortal!” A giant sneered down at him and bellowed out harsh grating laughter, “Have the Aesir begun to recruit from the Midgardian’s?”

Harry smirked, “You seem to bleed just as well as I do.”

The giant snarled and lunged. Harry ducked under the large blue arm and rolled up right into its chest. It chuckled darkly and wrapped its arms around him, all the while Harry was putting a dagger into its neck.

“Works every time,” he wheezed as the giant's grip went slack.

“You must show me how you do this trick!”

Harry quirked a brow at the armored man that had been fighting beside him, “I let them grab me and stab them with the pointy end,” he offered sarcastically.

The other man laughed heartily and clapped him on the back. Raising his sword into the air he yelled out to the other fighters, “For Asgard!”

A chorus of voices echoed the sentiment as they ran toward another group of giants. Above the grunts of pain and clash of metal, a voice rose above the rest, “They’re retreating stop them at the pass!”

Harry lost count of the giants he had personally taken out. The battle was intense and seemingly without end. These men fought like he did, as though they had magic fueling them. 

“Catch!”

He pivoted on his heels and grasped the arm of the giant that had been flung into his path. There was no hesitation but the flat look in those red eyes did make him cringe. 

“To the Bifrost!” A large man in golden armor sat upon a black horse trotted through the field yelling commands, “To the Bifrost, we must make haste!”

“Come, we are taking the fight to them,” the warrior growled with a feral glint in his eye.

-0-

Harry stood out in the crowd of shining golden warriors. Not only was he taller than most of them, but he was also the only one not wearing armor. Their leader sneered down at him from the horse as the light came down from the heavens and enveloped them. He tried not to let it worry him, but it was only partially successful. 

Inside the light, it reflected every color he could recall ever seeing. They lifted in unison barreling into space. Stars and the cosmos blurred past in a reality-bending mess of hues. It was both awesome and horrible. He knew that they were close to completing their journey when the bitter sting of winter made itself known once more.

When the light receded he squinted his eyes at the alien landscape. It was a planet of ice and rock and snow. How anything managed to live here he didn’t know. There didn’t appear to be a sun, just the brightly burning stars far in the distance and an oddly glowing moon that hung heavy and red above the atmosphere. 

“Baulder, why have you brought a mortal amongst us?” 

Harry glanced up at the leader. These idiots threw around the word mortal an awful lot for a race that died just the same as his own did. 

“My King, the Midgardian has fought at my side all day. He is a skilled warrior and took out many of our enemies, why would I not?” Baulder quirked an imperious brow in open challenge.

He hoped the other man knew what he was doing, the King didn’t seem very forgiving.

“My son, you know it is a crime to bring a mortal to the halls of Asgard,” the King reprimanded.

Baulder scoffed and motioned around them, “These are not the golden halls father.”

Harry meet the King’s gaze refusing to back down from it. 

“Very well,” The King muttered and squinted into the eerily glowing mountains.

They were split up into regiments and send off to war. Harry followed the King’s son diligently. Now that he knew the Prince’s identity, he was determined that the other man would live to the end of this campaign. What might happen to him if the King’s son died, he could only guess at--none of it good. 

“Won’t we need more men than this to attack them on their own soil?” Harry whispered as they marched across the tundra. 

They numbered around a thousand from what little he‘d seen, and while that was a lot of men, well it didn‘t seem like enough to him to come here.

Baulder smirked, “Neigh my friend, Odin All-Father comes behind us with the Destroyer.”

The Destroyer he mouthed as they came upon the ruins of what had once been a majestic city if he had to guess, and he wondered if the Destroyer had already been here.

“Laufey hides from us like a coward!” Baulder shouted out to the surrounding men.

Some chuckled and others hooted and yelled. One man swore and said, “He hides from his Gods, mayhap they’re in the Temple praying for mercy!”

A league of blue warriors practically appeared out of the air in front of them. At the helm was a man that could only be Laufey, the giant’s king. These giants lived up to their title. Even from this distance, Harry could tell they were all much larger than those he’d encountered on Earth. Easily reaching nine to eleven feet tall, they were menacing.

Laufey gave a small growled speech to his men and raised an arm forward. Baulder tensed and focused on the middle of the column.

“What did he say?” Harry asked worriedly as nearly all of the giants turned their eyes on the golden prince.

“He told them they might die this day, but they would take Odin’s son with them,” Baulder grumbled then tried to laugh it off, “For Asgard!”

Chaos ensued at the Prince’s cry to battle. The Aesir ran at the line of giants without fear and Harry reluctantly followed along, making sure to stick close to the Prince. 

It was hard to tell how the battle around them was going, but just minutes in and Harry was dancing around the corpses of fallen Aesir. He swooped down and grabbed another sword swinging it onto his back just in case.

The line of opposition was a thick blue wall. Harry saw no end to them, thousands all ready to die. 

“Not today,” Harry muttered.

Baulder kicked another combatant away from him, “Not today?”

“We will not die today!” Harry parry two ice lances from the front and felt a third pierce his back.

Baulder screamed and hacked at something behind him. There was a relief when whatever had stabbed into him was removed, but the wound was serious. The Prince shook his shoulder, “Not Today!”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to pull more magic into his body. He was mostly successful, the wound would hold for now. With renewed vigor, the two fought back to back cutting through the enemy ranks. Death crept steadily closer as they were surrounded. He grit his teeth and pulled at his core for more--for anything.

“Incendio!” Harry screamed and pushed with everything he had through his sword as he swept it through another giant.

He gasped at the enchanted Asgardian sword glowed briefly and channeled the magic. A stream of fire followed the sword's path setting everything in front of it on fire. It was effective. It was apparent that these creatures of ice couldn’t stand the flames and were quickly pulling away. Encouraged by the response he pushed at Baulder until the two had switched sides and repeated the casting not stopping until the two were surrounded by a ring of the brightly burning flame.

The ground shook as a mechanized roar shouted from behind them.

“The Destroyer comes,” Baulder crowed and cut down another giant that had made the mistake of jumping over the fire.

-0-

The carnage left in the wake of the Destroyer’s attack was stomach churning. His lust for battle had waned at the sight of such ruin.  
Ash of the dead mixed with the partially melted ice had formed a deep gray sludge. Still, they fought and chased those that sought to retreat. 

Baulder had backtracked to fight alongside his father, which was not a position that Harry wanted to be in. While the Prince was protected Harry wandered in a different direction. At the far end of the nearly destroyed city, was a single building, yet untouched. From inside, Harry could hear the cries of an infant.

-0-


	2. Isle of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up after the last battle a changed man. It seems there might be more to being the Master of Death than he'd thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HP one shot. open-ended and as complete as I will ever make it. Free to adopt, just put a link in the comments if you do so that I can read it. Standard disclaimer applies. I own nothing. Harry Potter and all its wonderfulness are owned by the wonderful J.K.Rowling. 
> 
> This story contains mature language, a spot or two of violence and some encounters of a sexual nature. You've been warned.
> 
> -0-

There was a single moment when he just knew that everything in life had changed. he’d woken up the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts feeling especially rested and everything was good, great even. Then he’d raised his hands to give his head a good scratch and the moment came. Without his glasses, everything in the periphery was blurry so it was just a dark smudge on his forearm, but his heart nearly froze in his chest. 

He brought the offending arm into his line of sight and squinted at the ink, having absolutely refused to call the thing a dark mark. There on his right forearm was the mark of the Deathly Hallows. In his mind, he replayed the memory of breaking the Elder wand and dropping it into the ravine off the bridge and of purposefully losing the stone in the Forbidden Forest. The only one that he’d kept had been his father’s cloak. 

Jumping up from his bed in Gryffindor Tower, Harry ran over to the pile of dirty clothes and various bits and bobs that’d come from his pockets. The evening before he’d just been so tired that he’d stripped down to his pants and left everything on the floor in a trail to his bed. 

Harry searched frantically through the items one at a time, as though a more thorough investigation would turn the thing up. His ripped bloody denims were there as was his jacket, and he tried and failed spectacularly to convince himself that the cloak had absolutely not been in the pocket. That he must have dropped it further into the room, he thought as his mind raced. But, everything else was right there. The invisibility cloak was just, gone.

Scowling at the mark on his arm, he turned his glare on the pile of clothes, so mad that he felt like he could set them on fire with the power of his glare alone. That was about the point that the denim began to smolder.

“Shite!” Harry ran over to the nightstand searching for his wand.

His hands shook and he fumbled the wand, knocking it hard enough to make it roll off the top of the nightstand and onto the floor. Dropping down to his knees, Harry scrabbled forward and reached under the bed, sighing in relief as his fingers wrapped around the familiar length of holly. As Harry pulled it out from under the bed, it began to heat up until it burned him. Harry swore and let the wand drop back down to the floor, where it immediately burst into flame and quickly turned to ash.

The clothes picked that moment to fully ignite. Harry turned to the growing flames that were now licking the wall and held out his hand, squinting his eyes as though that would help him with wandless magic and shouted, “Aquamenti!”

Water gushed out of his palm in a torrent and drenched the entire left side of the dorm room. Harry’s hand fell back to his side as he stared at the sodden ashy mess in horror, what was happening to him?

-0-

Hermione and a few of the other survivors had also stayed in the tower. Unfortunately, they were already awake when he skulked down the stairs.

“McGonnagal said that there’d be food in the kitchens,” Hermione winced and added, “The Great Hall is still being used as . . .”

She trailed off, her face bloodless. Harry knew what she was thinking about. The line of bodies, some covered in sheets. Of Tonks and Remus side by side, he gave his head a sharp shake to rid himself of the image.

“I’m not hungry,” he offered.

“Me either but we need to eat,” Hermione insisted and headed out.

If he’d found the cloak he would have thrown it on. He was in no mood for all the stares he was sure to get. They would probably be ten times as bad as before. Several students on the stairs passed them both by without notice and he thought, maybe he was wrong. Of course, then Hermione turned around. Her brow furrowed, “Harry?”

She called out to him again near frantic and began to jog back up the stairs, running right into him. They fell backward together in a clumsy tangle of limbs, “What the hell Hermione?”

“You weren’t there!” She growled and then looked down at the ridiculous way they had landed and started laughing, “Be honest. Did you disillusion yourself so no one would bother you?”

“Er, maybe,” Harry cagily answered and ran his hands through his chaotic hair.

“Next time warn me. I almost tripped us down the whole staircase, honestly Harry.”

Harry played it off like it’d been intentional. He took extra care not to wish for anything during the rest of their awkward breakfast.

-0-

“Are you sure Harry? Mum doesn’t mind, you’re family too,” Ginny said still clinging to his side.

He wanted to reassure her, even smile and tell her that he still loved her, but he couldn’t. The harsh truth was that he didn’t feel much of anything. He hoped the emotional apathy was a result of everything he’d been through recently. As it was he was no good to be around Ginny and her entire family. They’d never really discussed it, but he was sure that she expected them to pick up right where they left off. How could he do that when the Harry she loved, had died? 

Everything felt like a distraction, all of his friends a burden. Harry needed space more than anything to get his head together and figure out what was happening with his magic. Feelings could wait.

At least Hermione was off to Australia trying to track down her parents and restore their memories. She wouldn’t be back for a while, which would hopefully give him the time alone he needed to fix this, whatever this was. If she were here there was no way Hermione would let him stew in Grimmauld Place, which was exactly what he planned to do. Out of everyone, it would be her that he’d miss the most. 

The house had been vandalized. What wasn’t covered in filth was ripped to shreds. All the damage was magical so he could only assume that the Death Eaters had come back here after they’d escaped Yaxley. 

“Kreacher!” The elf didn’t come, leaving Harry to walk further into the disaster zone alone.

He was so angry. The more his temper flared the stronger the heavy feel of magic in the air began to grow until he could almost smell it. Like ozone before an electrical storm, it clung to the insides of his nose. With clenched teeth, he waved his arm over the living room and thought, repairo. 

The room pulled itself back together. Everything was clean and whole, even the photo’s that had been burned in the fireplace was once more atop the mantle. This was strange but not necessarily bad he thought. Harry spent the rest of the afternoon going room to room fixing the house. Until he went to the bank he had nowhere else to go.

“Shite. The bank,” Harry cursed and sat heavily on the sofa by the fire.

Would the goblins even let him into his vault? What a nightmare. 

-0-

“Mr. Potter, the horde leader Ragnok would like to speak with you,” the little beady-eyed teller sneered at him.

He knew this wasn’t a suggestion if the guards with axes were anything to go by. They walked him down a hall away from the vaults and into a large office that appeared to have been carved out of the solid rock.

The goblin sitting at the desk was dressed differently than the others. A metal breastplate carved with runes lay under his jacket. Harry would admit that the goblin looked like a strong leader, Ragnok had a presence.

“Sit,” Ragnok waved to the chair in front of his desk as he hopped out of his own and pulled out a thick file from a cabinet along the wall.

“I assume you know why you’re here?” Ragnok sat the file on the desk and hopped up into his chair.

“Er, the robbery? I can explain. I really had no choice,” Harry babbled and began to sweat under the cool gaze of the other being.

“No choice,” Ragnok hissed, “You placed one of the clan under the Imperious and then robbed a vault. Then you rode a dragon through the floor and ceiling. Twenty-three goblin lives were lost that day.”

Harry swallowed, “Yes, but it was the Goblin horde that stored a Horcrux of the Dark Lord Voldemort in a vault.”

Ragnok hissed and slammed one clawed fist on the desk, “The horde would have destroyed the foul magics if you had bothered to report it!”

“I was busy being hunted by a bunch of insane wizards! You shouldn’t need to be told what someone is depositing! There should be some failsafe!” Harry yelled in the little bastards face.

Ragnok growled as he opened the file, “You will pay for the damages and pay a fine for each life that was lost. Which will be given to their families. If you do not, you will not like the outcome, Mr. Potter.”

“I’m not even sure if I have enough gold to do that,” Harry admitted sullenly.

Ragnok scoffed and sat a ledger in front of him, “You’ve only ever been to the Potter trust vault. The main Potter vault will easily pay your debt with us.”

Harry looked at the bottom number. Just under three million galleons, “What are my total fines?”

“Two million, nine hundred thousand,” Ragnok shrugged.

“So basically all of my money?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Not quite,” Ragnok slid over a stack of ledgers.

“In 1996 you were appointed the sole heir of the Black family, with their last heir’s death you will have their collected wealth. A sum that is far more than the Potter clan ever accumulated.”

Harry found that specific sheet and his eyes bulged. Sirius had left him sixty million galleons.

“If you’ll check the other ledgers you will find that several other individuals have bequeathed to you. From Albus Dumbledore a collection of rare books. A pensieve was left to you along with a box from vault six. And on and on, it’s all there,” he waved at the file.

Harry nodded numbly, “Alright.”

Several goblin guards began to file into the room placing trunks in a line and stacking them along the far wall. Harry quirked a brow.

“This is the entirety of your property and wealth. As of today, you are no longer welcome within the halls of the Horde. Do not return,” Ragnok’s eyes flashed in anger as he said this.

“I have a couple of questions,” Harry said as he eyed the wall of trunks, “Has the debt been paid in total? Or, will you be charging Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger as well?”

“The debt is paid. Ronald Weasley has no personal vault, nor does Hermione Granger. The total of their fine will be a similar banishment from this establishment. They have been informed of this ruling by post,” Ragnok sneered.

“Will this extend to our children in the future?” Harry asked.

“It will not, but I would not come in with them, were I you,” the grin the goblin gave him was more teeth than lips. 

“How am I supposed to get all these trunks from the office?” Harry asked lastly more than ready to depart.

“This is not my concern, nor is it the concern of any employee of Gringotts. Whatever you do not walk out of here with will be remanded into the possession of the Horde.”

Of course it would Harry thought and sighed. He still hadn’t found a new wand, like a moron he’d come here wandless. He stood and directed the anger he felt for the situation at the trunks. His magic began to roil and pulse filling the office. Waving his arm across the wall he focused on his desire to shrink them all. Harry was once again pleasantly surprised by the ease of wandless casting. Perhaps, he thought, he’d not need new wand at all.

Harry walked over and summoned all the tiny match boxed sized trunks and put them in his jacket pockets, even shoving a few into the front pockets of his denims. He didn’t turn to look at Ragnok just walked back out of the office, down the hall and out into the alley.

-0-

That evening at Grimmauld while he was going through the bag of items Hermione had stored for him in her beaded bag, he found the wand he’d used the night of the battle. Harry picked it up and cast a lumos. His eyes immediately shut at the overly bright light that’d filled the entire room. Before he could even say nox the wand began to smoke and burned his hand. Harry dropped the wand onto the floor and watched almost in fascination as flames so hot they were green, trailed along the surface before it began to sizzle and melt. Eventually, all that was left was an ashy smudge, Harry swiped a finger through the mess and wondered what he’d done to cause it.

Using just his hand this time, Harry made the motions and cast the same spell. A bright perfectly formed circle of light hovered at the end of his fingers, “Well shite.”

-0-

That night while he was sleeping a few of the Death Eaters still at large, broke into the house and attacked him. Harry woke to the searing pain of the Cruciatus. Without thinking, he narrowed his eyes and pushed them all at the far wall. There was an audible crunch as their bones were shattered. 

He stumbled out of bed and tried to shake off the effects of the torture curse. The three men were really, really dead Harry thought and shuttered. It wasn’t as though he felt guilty exactly, it was more the shock of it being so easy.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry cast with his hand.

He expected Prongs to leap out but the spell was slow to form. He thought it might be because he was wandless. So far everything else had worked for him, but the Patronus was a difficult charm. The white glow continued to build in a cloud as it grew in size. But, when it began to solidify, it didn’t take the shape of Prongs.

An ethereal Thestral stood before him with its head bowed awaiting instruction. 

Harry shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face, well there was nothing for it, “I need to send a message to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Tell Kingsley, Yaxley and two idiots I don’t recognize attacked me at Grimmauld tonight. I er--might have banished them too hard into the wall. Uh, could you come? I’ll wait here.”

The thestral snorted before galloping off through the wall and into the night. Harry was still standing over the bodies when Kingsley walked into the room wand in hand. He whistled, “You really did a number on them.”

“I woke up to a round of Crucio. It wasn’t like I planned it,” Harry grumbled.

“The rest of the house is clear,” an Auror Harry didn’t know said and joined Kingsley in the bedroom.

“Why did you even come back here Harry?” Kingsley asked as the other Auror worked on identifying the corpses.

“Where else would I go? A hotel? I don’t have another house!” Harry ranted and began to pace unaware that his magic was beginning to manifest enough as to make the air around him haze. 

“You could have stayed at the Burrow. I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind,” Kingsley said in a quiet voice as he stared intently at the air around Harry.

Harry scoffed, “The last thing I need right now is to be packed into a house with that many people all trying to mother me.”

The frames on the walls rattled and several items sitting on shelves and tables began to float. 

“Calm down Harry.”

“I am calm!” Harry yelled and the floor cracked as plaster began to drift from the ceiling. 

Kingsley quirked a brow at that statement and motioned to the crack in the floor, “You seem calm.”

“Wha-what spell did you use to kill the intruders Mr. Potter?” The Auror stammered.

Harry gave his head a shake, “Eh, I don’t know. They snuck up here while I was sleeping and one of them woke me up with a bit of Crucio. And I was just so pissed off and I sort of waved them into the wall. So a banisher, maybe?” 

“You’re not in trouble Harry. Just let Auror Proudfoot see your wand and we’ll finish our report and get out of your hair.” 

“I don’t have a wand, it sort of caught on fire and burned to ash,” Harry admitted sheepishly. 

Auror Proudfoot choked, “You wandlessly banished three adults into the wall while under the effects of the Cruciatus?”

The floor creaked ominously as Harry’s eyes narrowed, “Yes.”

Kingsley kept quite after that statement and worked to get Proudfoot out of the house. Once the other Auror had finished up and left with the bodies, he turned back to Harry and said, “You can’t stay here, it isn’t safe.”

“Are there any hotels in the alleys besides the Leaky Cauldron?” Harry retorted.

“No. Well, none that would be safe for you to stay in. You could go into muggle London and find a decent enough place I’m sure,” Kingsley replied.

“I don’t have anything but galleons and the bank has given me a lifetime ban,” Harry snorted and gave the other man a look as though to say, there, now what?

Kinsley sighed and tilted his head back to stare at the damaged ceiling, “Tempus.” he muttered checking the time, “Do you have the money from your vaults?”

When Harry shook his head, Kingsley sighed in relief. 

“Well get dressed. We’ll go grab some breakfast. By then the Realtors office should be open. They’re located outside the alley’s so they weren’t much affected by the Death Eaters.”

“Muggle London?” Harry asked sarcastically and sneered.

“Why yes,” Kingsley chuckled, “You know how difficult it can be to find something in that barbaric heathen city.”

“How did they ever expect to win when more than half of them couldn’t find an entry in a muggle phone book?” Harry asked as he slipped a jumper on.

“A mystery for another day lets go eat.”

-0-

The agency was in a fairly posh neighborhood. Harry glanced down at his rumpled jumper and denims with a grimace. Kingsley had said they handled both muggle and magical real estate, so he’d be able to pay in galleons no matter what he bought. A bonus given his current bank woes. 

“Hello did you have an appointment,” the receptionist asked as her eyes raked over his outfit.

Kingsley answered in his stead, “Yes. Mr. Thomas is expecting us.”

“Shacklebolt?” She confirmed before directed the two men down the hall and into a rather modern looking office with a computer on the desk.

“Is there any spell that will bind my magic for a bit, or dampen it?” Harry asked as he wearily stared at the computer.

“Nothing that I know,” Kingsley replied solemnly.

“Ok. It’s ok, I’ve got this,” Harry didn’t know who he was trying to convince, himself or Kingsley.

“Hello Mr. Shacklebolt, oh my! And Harry Potter. So nice to meet you lad! What can I do for you two this morning?” Mr. Thomas greeted as he settled in at the desk.

“Er, it’s nice to meet you too sir.”

Mr. Thomas beamed, “So, buying or renting? Muggle or Magical?”

“I need a house,” Harry blurted and then began to ramble, “I’d prefer it to have a lot of land and be in the middle of nowhere. The fewer people around the better. Muggle, magical, it doesn’t matter as long as it's secluded.”

Mr. Thomas hummed in thought as his fingers began dancing over the keyboard, “Alright, I’m sure we can accommodate you there, but what kind of house and what‘s your budget?”

“I--don’t know. Uh, maybe something big--and um--sturdy, and eh I suppose nothing over twenty million,” he added as Kingsley laughed no doubt thinking of his earlier destruction.

“Big and sturdy,” Mr. Thomas chuckled, “It’s a good thing you don’t write the adverts lad or we’d never sell anything! Was that Galleons or pounds?”

“Galleons,” Harry answered purposefully not thinking of all the money sitting in tiny trunks in his pocket.

“Now let’s see,” he spun on the chair and stuck his hand into a file cabinet accio’ing several files.

He opened the first and placed it before Harry, “Muggle castle in Ireland. Fifteen bedrooms, built in the late 1200s, sits on 125 hectares.”

The realtor continued to show Harry various manor homes, of both muggle and magical origin, including several castles. Before he gave Harry a speculative look and said, “There is one remote magical castle for sale in the Outer Hebrides, but it’s a bit over your budget.”

“What’s a bit?”

“Well, the island has been Unplottable for eight hundred years. You won’t find any mention of it on any map. It’s quite sizable at 1,358 Hectares. The original fortress was built by Gwythyr ad Lewellyn around 700 AD. It was added and built up as it looks now in the early 1100s. Last owned by the Selwyn family, though it has been unoccupied since the 1970’s when the last of the main line died. 

“It’s five stories and has seven towers. Sports an impressive thirty-eight bedrooms, an attached conservatory and has a series of outbuildings including a sizable stone barn and a series of greenhouses.”

Harry interrupted him as he drooled over the pictures that had been shoved under his nose, “This all looks lovely, but what’s the price?”

“23,425,000 galleons,” Mr. Thomas smiled sheepishly and added, “But worth every knut.”

Kingsley coughed into his hand when the realtor had finally mentioned the cost.

Truthfully, the realtor wasn’t lying. It was magnificent. At least the pictures were. White sand beach on one side. Rocky shores on the others. A castle up on a high hill, with a standing stone circle behind it. There were grassy knolls and misty mountains in the background. Merlin, he wanted it. There was just something about it that was screaming at him to buy it. 

Mr. Thomas cleared his throat and brought Harry out of his little fantasy, “I’ll take it.”

“Really?”

“What?”

Both men exclaimed at the same time.

“I mean look at the place Kingsley,” Harry defended the decision to spend so much of his inheritance and handed the Auror the photos of the island and castle.

“It’s gorgeous, but Harry that’s got to be almost everything you have,” he said and glanced over, his face shuttering at the look on Harry’s.

“No, it’s not. I’ll take it but before I pay, I would appreciate a tour?” Harry asked of the realtor.

“Happy to do so. I’ve never gotten the chance to see the place in person myself either, and I’ve been dying for a chance,” Mr. Thomas gushed on.

-0-

Professor Flitwick,

Hello sir. I realize you’re probably quite busy helping to restore the castle, but I was hoping that I could borrow some of your time.

See, I recently bought a new home and would very much like to place a Fidelius on the whole property, but I want to cast the spell myself. Unfortunately, this isn’t something I can learn from a book. I was under the impression you were able to cast the charm yourself and was hoping you might find the time to teach it to me. 

I would be happy to compensate you for your time. Thanks in advance for your consideration.

Harry Potter 

-0-

Harry’s days were spent cleaning out number twelve while he answered and sent replies to various owls from Professor Flitwick, the Weasley’s and Hermione. Though Ron had come through the floo to visit in person, oftentimes bringing Ginny or George. 

George wasn’t dealing well with Fred’s death and had been more than a bit withdrawn since the funeral. Lately, Ron had been working with George at the shop and that seemed to be helping. Ginny was a whole other kettle. In a move that he didn’t quite understand, she’d started dating Dean Thomas again, and mentioned him, a lot. There was no feeling of jealousy this time around, however, and he truly hoped that she wasn’t only dating Dean to try and rile him up.

He slept at the castle as the place had enough wards in place to make it safe, double protected by the fact that only Kingsley and Mr. Thomas knew he owned it. 

Today he was supposed to be meeting Bill at Grimmauld as he’d hired the man. Harry was in serious need of a Cursebreaker. There was an entire subbasement level under the kitchen that he couldn’t even open. A hidden room behind the study attached to the library and Walburga’s portrait to start.

Gathering the letters from all the owls awaiting him, Harry sat down at the kitchen table and lined up the scrolls after fixing some tea.

Harry,  
I was finally able to reverse the memory charms. They’re so mad at me Harry. My father won’t even speak to me. I gave them back all their papers including control of their estate and accounts. Which leaves me in a bit of a bind. I’ve no money to stay in a hotel and I don’t really want to stay at the Burrow. Please don’t tell Ron that you know, but we tried to be more than friends and it just didn‘t work for us. Is there any way I could stay with you at Grimmauld Place? Please get back to me soon.

Love Hermione 

Harry rubbed a hand over his chest, reading the letter a second time. It had absolutely nothing to do with her addition about Ron. None. It was a lie he often told himself, that he had no interest in Hermione, that way. Before it had almost been like, well Ron likes her so... and there was the fact that he’d shrivel and die if she decided not to stick around. Then, there were other moments. An impetuous decision to dance with her on one of their darkest nights, where the lies he told himself didn’t hold.

With a wave of his hand, Harry conjured his new patronus, “I need to send a message to Hermione Granger, Why would you even ask? I’m sorry things have gone so poorly but at least you were able to restore them. Come home.”

The thestral bowed its head and charged through the wall.

Thirty minutes later Harry heard the sound of apparition coming from the back garden. 

“Hey Hermione,” Harry called as the back door opened.

Hermione trudged into the kitchen looking thoroughly bedraggled. Her hair was so out of sorts that it was shifting as though there was a breeze in the room. Dark circles had taken up under her eyes and she was visibly thinner, given how thin she‘d already been it was startling, “Merlin. Did you eat while you were away?”

“I haven’t been hungry,” she offered and took the chair opposite his.

Harry hopped up and gave her a brief hug before walking over to the counter to grab another cup and the box of biscuits he’d bought earlier. 

Sliding both in front of her with a smile he took his seat and said, “Well I bought another house that no one really knows about.”

He explained about the attack on Grimmauld that first night and his recent efforts to clean the place, “Bill is coming today to remove curses. After that’s done, you can have the place. I’ll sign over the deed and give you enough galleons to get through the next year or so until you’ve taken over the Ministry.” He added the last bit with a chuckle knowing she probably had a ten-year plan for world domination. 

She sputtered as her hair physically sparked, “You can’t just give me a house!”

“Why not? I hate this house,” he held up his hands, “I know you probably do too, but it’ll be completely gutted after the blood wards are removed on the cellar and library. There’s supposedly a keystone under the kitchen and its partially responsible for thwarting the efforts to change the place. Once Bill removes it we can put new wards up and renovate.”

“But,” her mouth opened and closed rapidly as her eyes began to water, “You can’t just give away an entire house. I--”

“You. That’s just it. You’re you. I have no family, but I’m quite fond of you,” Harry gave her a look that dared her to challenge his decision.

“I..Thanks,” she said with a wobbly voice and tried to blink away the tears that managed to escape despite her best efforts.

“They’ll eventually forgive you,” Harry said and pushed on the shortbread so it was closer to her hand.

-0-

Bill stared at the cellar door and whistled, “That’s some seriously dark magic.”

Pulling a vial of blood out of his pocket Bill offered, “Dad’s blood. For all that he’s a filthy blood traitor people tend to forget he’s the son of Cedrella Black.”

Harry chortled, “Does Ron know that his grandmother was a slimy Slytherin.”

Bill smirked making the scars on his face twist, “He might’ve, mostly he lives in denial.”

The blood was applied to the door before Bill took out his wand and began to cast various things. Harry had no clue what the older man was doing but it appeared to be working. The sinister feeling that emanated from the door had already lessened. 

After a half hour or so there was an ominous click. Bill opened the door without touching it and winced at the screech of the hinges. The staircase behind the door was stone and there was absolutely no light making it almost seem as though they lead into a void. A rotten stench wafted up that had Harry nearly gagging, “What is that?”

Bill waffled before saying what they were both probably thinking, “Something large and very dead my friend.”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered.

After the stairs had been declared safe, Bill allowed Harry to follow him down. Thankfully Hermione was asleep upstairs having completely worn herself down, she’d agreed to a nutrient potion and some dreamless sleep he‘d run and gotten from the apothecary. 

“Safe to cast a lumos?” Harry ask with his palm held up.

“Go for it,” Bill said as he continued to check the floor and walls for aggressive magic. 

“Lumos,” Harry smiled as the bright ball of light floated from his hand and hung above them.

“Nice,” Bill complimented before holding his arm out to keep Harry behind him.

“Trick stair at the bottom. A trapdoor with some nasties below it,” Bill muttered as he began to disable it.

The smell of rot was growing stronger, enough for Harry to put a bubblehead charm around his head.

“Alright. Careful then. Step where I step and don’t touch anything.”

-0-

“Bloody hell,” Bill cursed and coughed into his hand.

“Had to have been Bellatrix,” Harry muttered, “The place had been ransacked sometime before the battle. Kreature adored that crazy bitch, he probably let her in.”

Bill nodded absently still staring at the bodies. 

“Please.” 

Harry turned at the sound and found himself staring at the ghostly forms of a little boy, and two adults that might have been his parents. 

“Hello,” Harry choked, “Why are you still here?”

Bill turned from the bodies sharply and said, “Who are you talking to Harry?”

Harry glanced from the three ghosts to Bill, “The family,” he said and waved his hand at them.

“There no ghosts here,” Bill said with a glance back to the bodies, rotted and bloated beyond any sort of recognition in mounting horror.

The mark on Harry’s arm began to heat up and burn. He hissed as his magic began to pool around his hands. Images fluttered through his mind almost dreamlike in quality. He found his arms following along, mimicking what he’d witnessed.

“Harry! What the hell are you doing?!” Bill hissed and took a step away after he noticed the haze of heavy magic around Harry’s body.

“Merlin, your eyes!” 

Harry’s eyes were faintly glowing, not that he realized that. His body had been hijacked by something other. Something old. The mark stung as his arms lifted and something built in his chest. The sounds that escaped his mouth were guttural, living darkness in sound. But somehow like Parseltongue Harry could understand the language. 

“In these Realms, ye must not wander, go then to the beyond and after, be welcomed in the halls of Death.” Harry’s hands made a circle motion and a glowing portal opened behind the spirits.

The magic outlined the three trapped souls making them visible even to Bill. The older man gasped as the family thanked Harry for freeing them and stepped inside. As soon as they were through it, the portal closed.

“Harry what was that?!”

“M’tired,” Harry mumbled and slipped to the floor.

“Harry?”

Whatever had been done used nearly all his magic which was no small thing, Harry shook his head tiredly and mumbled, “Not now. Get the keystone and lower the wards, so we can call the Aurors.”

Bill eventually quit staring and cleansed the room enough to find and destroy the main ward stone. The thing bled a thick black ooze as it was finally destroyed. Far above them, Walburga’s portrait wailed as it unstuck from the wall and clattered to the floor.

Harry sent a patronus to Kingsley and explained their gruesome discovery. He briefly wondered if Hermione would even want to stay here once she’d been told. 

He was thankful beyond measure that Bill never mentioned the ghosts to the Aurors. Kingsley sent an entire Auror team to investigate the cellar beneath Grimmauld Place. They found evidence of earlier activities further in. Cells with chains and manacles hanging from the walls--other things. Devices. 

“And why exactly was Mr. Weasley here?” Auror Proudfoot seemed nervous around him after their last encounter.

“Bill Weasley is the best Cursebreaker I know. And this door was sealed with dark magic. Hence,” Harry made a hand-wavy motion at Bill who had puffed up at the best Cursebreaker comment.

“I think it best you guys stick around for the rest of the house actually,” Harry offered hoping to circumvent calling them back immediately if the hidden room in the library proved to be as horrible.

“Well that we would have insisted on,” Proudfoot said eyeing the corpses, “I hope you’re not staying here.”

“No. But I was going to sign the deed over to a friend. Not sure she’ll want the place after she finds out about, that,” Harry grimace and turned away from the bodies. 

After the crime scene had been photographed and the bodies were removed. The Auror team followed Bill into the library. At this point Harry was ready to burn the place to the ground, “Bill your mum went through these books and threw out the worst of the lot, didn’t she?”

Harry asked because the shelves were full to bursting, books were even stacked on the floor in some places.

“Kreacher!” Harry shouted for the elf, but as before the vile little beast either refused or was unable to answer.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “Kreacher fought with the elves from Hogwarts during the battle, he’s probably dead so I can’t ask if he did this, but if I had to guess . . .”

“Secrets of the Darkest Art, Magick Moste Evile, Treatises on Nefarious Inferious, The Death Mask, Egyptian Death Curses. . . Merlin save us from evil libraries boy. Why do you have all this? Most of these are banned--and for a damn good reason!” Proudfoot shouted as his face turned red and a vein throbbed at his left temple.

“Hey now, these aren’t Harry’s books. This house belonged to the Black family. Orion and Walburga most recently, Harry just had the misfortune to inherit the dump,” Bill insisted firmly.

The Auror’s feathers unruffled when Harry added, “How about you save me from evil libraries and just take all this shite back with you to the Ministry for burning, or whatever it is you do when you all find something like this!”

“Smart lad,” One of the quieter Auror’s who’d done more observing than talking said and conjured some boxes lined in silk. 

It took the group three hours to break into the room behind Orion’s study. Aside from some banned artifacts, it wasn’t the horror show in the cellar. The only book inside had been the families Grimoire. No one put up much of a fuss when Harry decided to keep that particular volume, it was after all a partial history of the crazy, but extant family. 

-0-

“I could learn to live with it,” Hermione insisted unconvincingly.

“No, you didn’t see,” Harry shook his head in denial, “Just grab a jacket and let’s go. Mr. Thomas is expecting us.”

“I could just stay with you at your new house,” Hermione offered instead.

“I’m having some issues, that wouldn’t be wise,” He cringed at the incoming interrogation he was certain would follow that statement.

“What’s happened? Are you alright? What issues?!” Hermione was looking him over as though checking for visible wounds.

Harry let himself get angry on purpose. Let the magic pool around him in a haze, felt it heavy behind his stare as Hermione’s mouth popped open. Everything in the living room rose up into the air and began to rotate, “Issues.”

It took a few seconds to calm himself down, “I’ll be ok, but there was one night that I nearly brought the roof down. So, Mr. Thomas?”

“Ok,” she nodded and gave him a sad little smile before throwing her arms around him, “I love you, Harry.”

He chuckled into her hair, “I love you too Hermione.”

-0-

Mr. Thomas greeted him energetically and immediately began asking his questions. 

“You have rentals as well, Harry that might be better,” Hermione interrupted the man to once again deter Harry from spending what she considered an unrealistic amount of galleons on her.

“Best to buy something Hermione, that way we can put it under better wards,” Harry said with finality and turned to Mr. Thomas.

“She’ll need a single family home, magical or muggle on at least a hectare. Three to four bedroom,” he glanced at his friends glowering face and smiled cheekily, “More? Five bedrooms?”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and hissed, “Two would be fine, thank you.”

“Your budget?” Mr. Thomas asked the question of Harry furthering Hermione’s ire. 

“Think we can find something decent for 250,000?” Harry returned and both men ignored her sputtering protests.

“There are a few lovely cottages for sale near Ottery St Catchpole,” Mr. Thomas said and accio’d several listing from his cabinet and began to show them to Hermione.

“This one has to be close to the Burrow,” Hermione murmured.

“There are several magical families that live in that area. The Diggory, Lovegood, and Weasleys to name a few. This cottage is on ten hectares, has three bedrooms and two baths. It was built in 1945 and was occupied until the most recent owners the Williams family, fled England for the continent. It’s in fairly good conditions and should be move-in ready, plus its considerably under budget at 35,500 galleons,” he added the last with a chuckle.

“That’s not bad for the price,” Harry offered as he flipped through the photos of the yard.

“Plenty of room for addition later too if you needed it.”

He could tell she was interested in the property, she kept biting her bottom lip.

“She wants it,” Harry laughed and dodged her hand as she took a swipe at him.

After they had the payment squared away, they apparated to the cottage and started cleaning everything so she could move in. The Williams had left in such a hurry that the house came with furniture. Most of it was quaint and wholly serviceable, but he helped Hermione replace the beds and stock her pantry. 

“You should go over to the Burrow and ask them to come over and help you ward later,’ Harry suggested and handed her a bag of galleons.

“I can’t take this,” she said and pushed it back to him.

“Do you have a job lined up? Or are you headed back to Hogwarts to finish seventh year?” Harry asked in return and pushed the bag back into her hands.

“In order, no and I’m not sure,” she huffed and glanced into the bag, seeing it was expanded she quirked a brow, “How much is this?”

“Five thousand should keep you from starving until your ten-year plan kicks in,” he joked.

“One day I will pay you back. I should put this in Gringotts,” Hermione said blithely, clearly unaware of the bank ban.

Harry groaned, “About Gringotts. . .”

He told her all about his visit and the fine, cringing as she screamed, “They fined you three million galleons!”

“Just under that yes, and then banned the three of us for life, sorry,” he added.

She waved her hand, “I couldn’t care less about the ban. I’ll make a vault in here somewhere and ward it, then get someone else to exchange enough to start a muggle account.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

-0-

Hermione insisted on helping to renovate Grimmauld as a way to begin repaying him. Even though he told her multiple times it was unnecessary, but between them and a few books on magical construction, the two made quick work of gutting the row house. 

Mr. Thomas was able to sell the place to another magical couple for three times what he’d spent on Hermione. Once he’d told her, she began to enjoy her own home, thankfully.

Professor Flitwick had finally had time to go over the Fidelius with him. Harry had the diminutive Professor floo over to the newly renamed Potter Castle. There were several oh my and this is lovelies. 

The man had brought several books that detailed the charm and how it was cast. Then went about placing the charm on a table with Harry as the table’s keeper. Of course, then he admitted that he wasn’t quite sure how to remove the charm, so now Harry had a table that only he could see. Still, it had been a productive afternoon and Flitwick admitted that if someone were powerful enough they might be able to both cast and keep the secret. 

“The Fidelius charm is actually a derivative of the ancient spell, Mists. Wherein the subject is shifted just outside of this dimension. Not many have the power to use such a spell. In the past, it required several to cast but was used to obscure entire islands. It’s rumored that the Isle of Avalon did indeed exist and was shifted away with this very spell. Which is where we get the saying the mists of Avalon. 

“Likewise its fact and not a myth, that Carcarus the Ruiner, a dark wizard that lived in the late 1700s, took over an island in what is now known as the Bermuda Triangle. The Mists, hide the isle quite well, but the overwhelming amount of dark magic that still pollutes the area, oftentimes sinks ships and wrecks aircraft. As an interesting aside, no one that has journeyed there has ever returned, leading credence to the isle’s myth status even in the magical world. 

“The second book I brought with me goes into more detail on Mists. I thought it might be of interest to you when you mentioned having purchased an entire island,” Flitwick offered with a chuckle. 

“If you do want to attempt that, I would request you allow me to help. Both because I believe you’ll need the help and because I’ve never seen the spell cast successfully.”

Harry agreed to that well aware that he was powerful but bad at things that required a delicate hand. He was more of a blunt force. 

-0-

He poured a bit of himself into the very core of it and gave it an insidious charm. It would take from those who had stolen it, their knowledge would become its knowledge. An unbeatable wand that would offer its master to death if it wasn’t paired with cloak and ring. 

The world would never forget the house of Peverell. 

Harry woke with a pant and wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d been having strange dreams for weeks of the elder wand. They were almost like memories.

“My most wicked and subtle friend, with body of Ellhorn, who knows ways of magic most evil,” Harry muttered thinking of last Fridays nightmare where he‘d been a wizard named Godelot, or maybe he was seeing Godelot‘s memories. Harry didn’t know, he just wanted it to stop. Some of the things he knew how to do now were troubling, like the method to create Inferi. 

In between fielding letters from Flitwick, Kingsley’s recent attempts to recruit him into the Aurors and McGonagalls’ repeated invitations to come back and study for a seventh year, he’d been visiting Hermione and trying to study the Deathly Hallows that held him in such a quandary. He didn’t want to ask Hermione to borrow her copy of Tales of Beetle the Bard, as Harry wasn’t up to explaining his--condition to anyone else, just yet. Not until he knew for certain what was happening to him. 

He’d found the trunk of books that’d been left to him from Dumbledore. Many esoteric theory-heavy volumes with a sprinkling of the bazaar and ridiculously hard to find, none were about the Hallows, however. Though some were quite old and interesting enough that he planned to one day study them. Especially the notebooks Dumbledore had himself inherited from Nicolas Flamel, that Harry was certain would be worth the read. 

Today he’d decided to plan out stocking Potter Castle’s ridiculously large and completely empty library. Starting with cataloging and placing all the books he’d inherited from the trunks into sections by study. Then perhaps a trip to the alleys to buy more. If the Death Eaters hadn’t burned it he’d check out Secondhand Books and stock up. 

The trunks had all been emptied of coin. Harry had created a vault in the basement. Then after a week of frustration, he’d strong-armed the Fidelius charm and cast it on the vault with himself as the keeper. 

The books, various artifacts, and the pensieve were stacked around the entrance to the library. It was only a few hundred books but damn if the mess didn’t make it look like more, Harry thought and huffed as he sat down next to the biggest pile.

“Alchemy,” he muttered levitating another volume into the first set of shelves.

The majority of those left to him fell into Alchemy or Transfiguration. He was going to have a lot of blanks to fill. 

“Alchemy,” he said and sent the book on to its new home.

“Alchemy, Alchemy, oh look Charms, yay,” Harry grumbled. 

Three full shelves in a three-story library, how sad he thought. Hermione would probably cry at the sight. At that thought, he decided it was time for food and a trip to the alleys.

-0-

Second Hand Books was not only open, it was packed to the gills with books and had a sign that proclaimed them to also sell in bulk. 

Harry grabbed one of the stores ever light baskets and trolled through the tightly packed rows throwing whatever caught his fancy into it. Primers and introductions to subjects he’d never bothered with. Reference books. A few that had neat pictures. A bit of everything. Of course, when he got to the counter he had to ask, “What’s this about buying in bulk?”

The older woman behind the counter practically twinkled behind her bifocals, “We buy books from estate sales. Some go into our private collection, some come here, but with the war and all of the estates, well we’ve a bit of an overstock. Was there a particular field you’re studying or . . ?” She trailed off as she tallied his total and punched it all through the register.

“I have a huge empty library,” he shrugged sheepishly, “I just can’t stand seeing the empty shelves and buying,” he glanced at the counter, “Twenty at a time isn’t fixing it.”

She dimpled at him and rummaged around under the counter coming back up with a list of offerings.

Bulk book bundles only include books of, on, or about magic (we do carry muggle titles but only on request.)  
Bulk book bundles do ��not include multiple copies of the same title. The only exception is if more than one bundle is purchased then there is no guarantee.

500 books . . . . . . . . . . 2,000 galleons  
1,000 books . . . . . . . . .3,950 galleons  
1,500 books. . . . . . . . . .4,900 galleons  
2,000 books. . . . . . . . . . 5,850 galleons

Bundles of more than 2,000 require three days to process and a fifty percent deposit on the day of order. Prices vary and are available upon request.

Harry put the flyer back on the counter and hummed in interest. 

“Your total for today is forty-six galleons, three sickles, and six knuts.”

He summoned the correct coinage from his money pouch and asked, “What’s the largest book bundle you offer and how much would it be?”

She blinked and hesitated, “Probably more than ya wanna spend. There’s no real limit see, we’ve near three hundred thousand books in storage.”

“Fair. How much for fifty thousand with no doubles?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “97,500 galleons.”

It was still less than what he’d made off the sale of Grimmauld Place if only just, “Do I need to pay the whole amount up front?”

“You’re serious. You mean to buy that many?” She asked as her eyebrows began to climb up into her hairline.

“Yes.”

She nodded and offered, “Half down and the other half when you pick them up from the warehouse. Orders of that size can’t be delivered.”

Harry told the woman he’d be back, but from her look, he was sure she didn’t believe him.

One hour and one trunk of gold later had her tripping over herself to set up the pickup date. 

-0-

One drawback of Mists was that it made the horizon line, well--misty. Which seemed a shame because it meant he’d never really get to enjoy the view unless the charm was set far from the shore, but then that came with its own set of problems. The charm was anchored almost like a ward, with a keystone and then markers for the area in effect. Markers would need to be placed and secured on the seafloor, that wouldn’t be eroded away by the salt water or disrupted by growths of any kind. The average imperturbable charm was twelve hours. A runic scheme could affect the actual marker.

“A ward around each marker after it's been placed?” He muttered and rubbed his face before shutting the book. It was no wonder that Flitwick had never seen a successful casting of Mists. He wondered for the millionth time if he should just cast a Fidelius and be done with it. 

As his stomach grumbled Harry was reminded of another irritation. He’d yet to plant the greenhouses or get any livestock, not that he knew how to go about doing those things. Maybe Hermione wouldn’t kill him if he hired a small army of elves. They could have their own room, Sundays off and knitted hats, anything. He just needed help. This place was beautiful but it had been impetuous and now time-consuming. 

It made him think of Dobby, he missed that crazy little guy. He wondered if Winky was still at Hogwarts. Winky! “Winky?”

With a pop, Winky joined him in the library, “Hello Winky.”

“Master Harry Potter sir!” She addressed him cheerily.

“Are you still working at Hogwarts?” He asked.

She shook her head and danced around a bit, evidently doing much better than last he’d seen her. 

“I was wondering if you could help me?”

She tilted her head to the side and asked: “What does you need?”

“Well I bought this castle and it’s too much work just for me. I was wondering if you knew of any elves that needed new homes after the war?”

She smiled wide and nodded vigorously, “Winky does. There’s being a lot of elvsies that lost their families. Dolly and Dotty was with the Malfoys and theys in bad wizards prison now,” she said with trembling ears. 

“Could you ask them for me? And tell any others that there’s room for any that want to come. I’ll give a wage and benefits anything they need,” he pleaded.

She sniffled, “Master Harry is so nice.”

As she popped away he crossed his fingers, “Please let her come back with an eager army of help.”

He’d just about given up on a swift return and had settled into reading more about Mists, when Winky popped back into the library nearly startling him out of his chair.

“Master Harry Potter sir, the Ministry is having Dolly and Dotty now. They tooks a lot of stuff inside to sells it,” Winky worried her hands together as she lamented the loss.

“Huh, I didn’t know I could buy elves from the Ministry,” Harry was a bit frustrated at the news, to be honest. 

“Winky would stay and Master Harry could still goes to the Ministry to the elvsies locations office,” she said and gave a firm nod.

“I thought you liked it at the school?” He asked not wanting to remove her from Hogwarts if she preferred it.

“It’s ok but Winky would like a family again,” she said and kept her eyes on her feet.

“I’d love it if you stayed and became a part of the Potter family. I’ll go to the Ministry tomorrow morning and ask about Dolly and Dotty.”

-0-

“Winky can’t. Won’t, won’t won't.” she chanted stubbornly and stomped her feet against the stone floor.

He never imagined seeing someone so upset about being offered a suite in the servants quarters. Harry had been surprised to find an entire area of the castle under the kitchen set up for servants. Regularly sized servants, so either the place had been built by muggles, or the builders employed regular magicals. 

“These rooms were built for servants, frankly I was embarrassed to offer them to you. Because you’re more than a servant, you’re a member of my family. By rights you should have a suite in the family tower,” he hedged with a knowing smirk.

Winky lost her mind and screeched about him being a bad master, then skipped into her room and said, “Thank you master Harry sir.”

-0-

It would happen tonight. His brothers would be his anchor, they would not let him cross. It wasn’t fear that had his heart beating so rapidly, death was nothing. The absence of all things. 

Magic pulsed up and down his body until it could be directed at will. He pushed, out and on.

Colors streaked as the world became a negative reflection. Black eyes and a gaping maw, nothing, it was nothing.

You will never be able to cross the river Stix, go back wizard! 

The things voice grated against Antioch’s mind like stones being rubbed together, jagged and wrong. His ears rang with the pain of hearing it. Not far. He pushed and went further out, over and through. 

His ears were bleeding the pain was intense but the sounds had stopped. There, it was there. He reached out a broke off the end of one branch. 

Antioch opened his eyes and saw his brothers on their knees clutching their ears as blood leaked through their fingers. Looking at his own hand, his heart swelled in joy. A bough of elder ripped from death itself. 

Harry jerked out of bed and landed on the floor screaming. From the raw wounded feeling in his throat, it had been happening long before he woke, “Fuck.”

At least he hadn’t cracked the floor, Harry thought as he took in the destruction. The bed frame had snapped and his nightstand was kindling. 

“Repairo,” he cast and flopped back against the cool floor as everything began snapping back together. 

It was a shame that dreamless sleep was addictive. Whatever his ancestor had done was beyond comprehension. It had felt as though every line that could be crossed, Antioch had jumped over. Willingly no less.

After a quick shower, Harry got dressed in one of his new outfits. He’d need that extra armor to deal with the Ministry.

-0-

The Department of Magical Creatures and Beings Division was understaffed and from the looks of things, underfunded. The middle-aged man behind the desk had fallen asleep and was drooling on some parchment. The puddle nearly reaching the nameplate that proclaimed him to be Bob Hitchens.

Harry slammed his palm against the desktop next to the sleeping man’s face, then just stood there calmly while the man jerked awake.

“What’s that--I, what, oh hello there,” Bob smiled absently and Harry couldn’t help but notice whatever ink Bob slept on had rubbed off on his left cheek. 

“How do I buy house elves?” Harry asked in way of greeting.

“Six months to ten years are 1,000 galleons. Eleven to sixty are 2,000 galleons, anything over sixty is five hundred,” Bob offered with a wave of his hand.

“Why would you have infants?” Harry asked as his rage and hate began to manifest.

“Well, the things breed like rabbits don’t they? Someone had to take them in when all the Death Eaters got locked up.”

Harry had been wrong to come here. This was a mistake. Magic pooled even as he tried and failed to will it away, “How many are here?” Harry asked in a clipped voice.

The man was beginning to twig on to Harry’s temper, “Sixty four, you alright?”

“Yes. I’d like to buy four that are around middle age, can I see them first?”

Bob was watching Harry wearily now, clearly afraid. Thankfully promise of a sale overwrote his self-preservation and he led Harry down a hall into a dark cramped bunkhouse of sorts. There were no lights on until Bob turned them on--when he opened the locked door. The elves were huddled on the floor, the oldest amongst them cradled the young. Large eyes all wet and red-rimmed stared up at him from the floor.

“Fuck!” Harry cursed as his magic flared again.

“Damn it all man, why did you have to treat them like this! I can’t!” Harry growled and pulled at his hair as the darkness within him released.

The Ministry worker, Bob, dropped to the ground and writhed in pain as though he were under the Cruciatus. Likely, Harry thought. His magic took his whims to the extreme and he had wanted the man to hurt when he saw the elves. He panted and worked on reeling himself in, “Imperio.”

The man’s eyes glazed over. 

“Tell me, is there a way to trace the elves after they leave here?”

 

“The tracker is removed once payment is received,” he murmured emotionlessly.

“You will remove the tracker,” Harry ordered.

“I will,” the man nodded and pulled out his wand. 

The elves flinched each time Bob’s wand hovered over them, making Harry’s anger all worse. When Bob was finished with his task, Harry asked if there was any other way to tell who had taken the elves and the man said no.

Staring into those glazed muddy eyes, Harry thought about removing every single memory of what a house elf was along with this entire episode, “Obliviate.”

Bob blinked in confusion before Harry threw a sleeping charm at the man. 

“If I go to my home and call out to you, will you hear me?” Harry asked them.

Several nodded others just quietly watched. Harry cloaked himself and ran to the apparition point. He cracked into existence and walked into the dining hall as it was the largest room nearby.

“I need my elves?”

The air filled with pops, “Hello. I’m sorry if I scared you all earlier that wasn’t my intention. My name is Harry Potter, I bought this island and the castle, but then couldn’t keep up with it. I only wanted to find elves to join my family, but that man was a disgrace to wizardkind, most of the Ministry is,” Harry added and shook his head.

“Any of you that would like to stay here and work can, there’s plenty of room and plenty of work, or you can leave. Hogwarts would probably take you in if you’d rather go there. You‘re free to go wherever you‘d like to be.”

Most of the elves thanked him and then either popped away to their old homes or had gone to Hogwarts. The ones that stayed were used to dark magic, he could tell. The last dozen likely came from the worst of Death Eaters. They were used to things like what he’d just done. He hoped no one could undo his Obliviate, Azkaban was not on his list of things to experience, not he thought, that it could hold him.

It was time to really work on Mists before someone came to arrest him for being the new Dark Lord.

He wandered down the line and offered each one his hand, “Just call me Harry, ok? What’s your name?”

“Dotty,” she said beaming up at him.

“Oh, Dotty. I’ve actually heard about you. Winky lives here and she told me that you’d been taken from the Malfoys.”

Dotty’s ears perked up and she nodded, “Took Dotty and Dolly right from their cupboards!”

Dolly was standing right next to her and she clutched to Dotty.

“Well, I’m sure that the Malfoys will be released if you’d like to return there?” Harry offered.

They didn’t look sure, “Master Harry is nicer, maybe here is better,” Dotty said.

Dolly nodded, “Dobby loved master Harry.”

Harry blinked at the emotion that name still brought, “Dobby was brave and I was glad to have him as my friend. He saved my life.”

The two sniffled and hugged each other, “Dobby was a good elf.”

Klopper had worked the barn at the Scabior farm. He had no love for the Scabior family and said he’d work the barn at Potter Castle, but only if he could have a room out there. 

Greenie was a gardener from the Parkinson estate that visibly disdained her old mistress, Poppy. She had been overjoyed at the idea of several greenhouses to plant and look after. Like Klopper, Greenie wanted a room in the greenhouses with her son Little who had just turned six months.

Esp and Asp were the kitchen servants from the Carrow house. Esp and Asp both suffered the tremors of overexposure to the Cruciatus. They agreed to stay with Winky, Dolly, and Dotty in the Servants quarters. 

One, Two and Three were refugees that wouldn’t speak of where they’d come from but to say that they were happy to stay and preferred to grow things. They all agreed to work as needed on the grounds and in the greenhouses.

The elves bunking with Winky were easy to settle in, but Harry hadn’t even really gone into the barn. So he went out and checked for perspective elf housing. There were two lofts, one for hay and the other an empty office. He helped settle them in, transfiguring a few things, helping make beds. They seemed pleased.

Greenie and Little had already made a home of the storeroom in the potting shed. 

He hoped Hermione didn’t kill him if she found out, but leaving them all at the Ministry, just wasn’t on. 

-0-

Harry’s heist of the elves and Obliviation of the Ministry worker Bob was front page news the next morning. Worse it was a mysterious crime, so of course, several related articles ran all week long. An expert on memory charms had been brought in, only to find out that what Harry had done to Bob was quite permanent. 

His new Dark Lord tendencies had kicked in when Bob was quoted saying, ‘What’s a house elf?”

The cackle had been entirely authentic. 

Harry went out and bought chickens, pigs, and cows for Klopper to look after. Fruit and nut trees to appease the numbers and an entire seed bank for Greenie. They were all settling in and seemed reasonably happy, particularly Greenie who loved growing food but hated magical plants commonly grown for potions. 

-0-

Harry,

The weirdest thing happened this morning.  
An elf showed up at the Weasley’s. Bitty knocked on the front door and asked to be their elf. Said Good Wizard Sir saved her and told her she could go wherever she wanted and that she wanted to be at the Burrow. Good Wizard Sir. 

Reminded me of what Dobby used to call you. It wasn’t you was it? Tell me it wasn’t! No. you wouldn’t do that, I don’t think anyway, would you?

McGonnagal convinced me to go back for seventh year. I can’t take over the Ministry without my NEWTS, so I agreed. I’m not even going to ask if you’re going, I already know the answer and I don’t blame you, but I will miss you terribly.

It’s been a week. Dinner and a movie? 

Love Hermione 

-0-

“So when am I going to get to see your new house?” Hermione asked as she added popcorn to the already overflowing pile of snack food on the coffee table. 

Harry shrugged and managed to evade the question by trying to toss another pretzel into Ron’s mouth.

The muggle entertainment system had been left by the previous family, already fiddled with to work in a magical household. She’d splurged and bought a few dozen Vhs tapes. Harry had never really been allowed to watch movies growing up and her parents had preferred books.

Tonight they’d planned on watching Star Wars. Though Ron appeared to have come for the snacks. 

“Got any more of these cheese filled pretzels?” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of said snack.

“Shh it’s starting,” Harry punched Ron in the shoulder and dumped his pretzels into Rons’ bowl.

Halfway through the film, they’d paused it to have dinner. It was no wonder they’d had second-hand robes growing up. Ron was like a black hole for food, Hermione thought and chuckled fondly.

“Man, you know Harry. You kinda remind me of that Darth guy,” Ron laughed and threw a piece of popcorn at Harry’s face.

It devolved. 

“Boys. Curry in the kitchen, now,” she ordered with her hands on her hips, they were lucky it was so easy to clean with magic or she’d kill them for that. A food fight in her living room. What were they thinking!?

“I already cleaned it up Hermione,” Harry offered and gave her a brief one-armed hug.

“I’m serious mate. That whole fist choke thing was pretty amazing for a bad guy skill, right?” Ron continues on in the same vein, extending his fist out making little choking sounds, “You’ve failed me for the last time.”

After the movie was over Ron went back to the Burrow and Hermione cornered him, “Were you the one that set the elves free?”

“Er, no. Why would you think that?” He asked in as calm a voice as possible, thinking all the while not to blink, twitch his nose, do anything that she could sniff out.

She sighed and hung her head, “You’re lying. Why would you do it?”

“We’ll need to go outside for me to tell you.” Harry offered and headed for the door.

He walked several feet from the house and began to explain the conditions of the elves, of how the Ministry had even thrown infants into that dirty little dark room with a locked door. Of how they’d been crying. 

Hermione looked murderous. 

“The man that worked there, well he just pissed me off so bad Hermione, and well,” he motioned around them.

In a six foot circle around him, all the grass had dried up and blackened, “My magic lashed out almost without my permission Hermione. For one second, maybe not even that, I thought about hurting him--and then he fell to the floor under something that looked like the Cruciatus. After that well, I was going to have to Obliviate him, yeah? So I figured the fucker could stand to forget what house elves were!”

A lick of flame popped up in the blades of grass between his feet. Harry hissed and conjured water.

“I probably would have killed him and vanished the body,” she said staring at him intently.

“I didn’t realize that bodies could be vanished?” Harry asked, thinking that might become useful to know if there were future accidents.

“Well, it works best if you transfigure the body into an inanimate object first, like a stick. Sticks burn well and really fast. So, you turn the body into a stick, burn it and then vanish the ashes,” she lectured and headed back toward the house.

“That’s taking into account someone of average power. You could probably just vanish the actual body,” she offered nonchalantly as she tucked up on the couch.

Harry sat down next to her and leaned against her side, “When you start your Ministerial take over perhaps you should start with the Beings Division.”

Hermione grunted and reached for her butterbeer on the table, “I’d need an internship in law to make any relevant change.”

They sat silently for several minutes before Harry admitted, “I think I’m a Dark Lord.”

He could feel her nod though she didn’t comment.

“I’m afraid of what I’m becoming,” he added and turned to look at her.

Her eyes were on him. 

She gave him a wobbly smile, “You could never be like Voldemort,” she cupped his face in her hands.

Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, “You should probably get as far away from me as you can,” the, before things go bad, was left unsaid. 

He’d no sooner stopped speaking than he felt the press of her lips against his. He pulled away and asked, “Ron?”

Hermione shook her head, “We’re just friends.”

Her lips were soft and insistent as she fought to dominate the kiss. Harry closed his eyes and groaned letting his hands slide down to her hips and shifted her into his lap. 

When they broke for air his eyes blinked open and she was staring at him with something like awe, “Your eyes glow.”

Harry smirked at her and let part of his magic rise to the surface running it along her body. Hermione gasped as her head dropped back, “Is that--is that how you feel all the time?”

Harry nodded as he leaned back in and swallowed her gasp. Between them, his magic roiled along them pulsing until Hermione cried out. It was the only thing Antioch had taught him that wasn’t overtly evil. 

She twitched and shifted, her body overstimulated. His eyes cracked back open and he saw little sparks falling from the wild curls that cascaded around her shoulders. He wanted her. Wanted to possess her.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, “I couldn’t stand it if you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Harry,” She said and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“You’ve been my best friend for years. Sometimes my only real friend,” he added thinking of fourth year. 

“I never let myself think of you like this for the same reason, but Harry,” Hermione lifted her head and placed her lips against his ear, “I want you for myself.”

“This isn’t a one-off for me Hermione, all or nothing,” he offered in return.

“All of you,” she whispered, close enough that he felt her tongue on the shell his ear. 

“I won’t let you go if we do this,” Harry warned even as his very magic rebelled at the thought of choice, she was his. 

“Always,” She managed as her little kisses worked their way back to his mouth where he wanted her.

His mind echoed the words back as the mark on his arm flared to life, but they were just too entwined for him to focus anymore. 

-0-

There was a blissful moment when he woke tangled behind her on the couch, where nothing but the warmth between them mattered. His arm was wrapped around her and sometime while they slept their hands had joined. There was a pleasant thrum of magic coming from a point just above his wrist that confused Harry for all but a second. Then that bubble of happiness burst and he realized it was the mark.

He swallowed and reluctantly released her fingers pulling his arm away. There on her left forearm was a mirror image of his right. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows stark against her sun-kissed skin. 

“Morning,” she murmured and turned her head around to seek him out with her mouth. 

When he didn’t respond Hermione’s brow furrowed, “What? What’s wrong? You don’t--regret last night . . .” she trailed off and blinked rapidly.

“There’s something that I should have told you . . .”

An hour later sitting quietly at the kitchen table with an entire field of space between them, the tea was cold and untouched. Food went uneaten as they started and stopped. 

“It was why I spend most of my time so far away and alone,” He spoke to the unwanted tea unable to meet her eyes. 

“You’re right, you should have told me,” Hermione finally spoke.

His magic whirled around him inching closer to her light before jerking back in an endless cycle of want. That deeper well that existed far beneath yawned, its maw waiting to devour him should he falter and fall. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said even as everything in him reared up in disagreement and a small thread traced its way from him to her reaching out and finally touching. 

“You should have told me, but we’ll figure this out, together.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers in raw hunger, her words feeding his soul. He saw it reflected. Standing so abruptly the chair fell backward and clattering to the floor he strode over and pulled her up. She moaned as their lips slanted together and waved a hand at the table. Food, tea, and dishes swept off and to the floor in a mixed jumble of broken shards. 

Taking the initiative he backed her against it until she fell back, her legs drew up and wrapped around his waist.

At the thought of feeling her skin against his, their clothes vanished. Their coupling that morning wasn’t gentle but frantic and wild.

-0-

“Castle Potter,” Harry removed his hand from its place over Hermione’s eyes as they stood on the rocky shore looking up at the majestic stone structure. 

“That’s not quite what I imagined,” she finally settled on. 

“It was owned by the Selwyn family until the 1970s,” Harry offered and continued to extol facts about his new home.

“Who built it?” She asked as they picked their footing carefully on the rocky trail that led up to the entrance. 

“Gwythyrn built the standing stone circle and a fortress here around 700, but it was added to and evolved into this around 1100.”

She turned to him with bright eyes, her excitement radiated as she pulled on his arm, “There’s a stone circle here?”

“Yeah, past the barn,” he nodded in its direction, “Wanna see it?”

Hermione laughed as she skipped ahead of him. 

“There’s a similar circle on one of the inner Hebrides. They say it predates the Christian calendar by nearly a couple hundred years.” Harry said following along behind her.

“I wonder if the Selwyns celebrated the Sabbaths and Solstices here? Mabon’s soon, fancy an autumn festival, I always thought that looked fun,” Hermione offered as the circle came into view.

“Could double as your birthday since its right after,” Harry chuckled then added, “Of course by then you’ll be at Hogwarts.”

She pouted evidently having forgotten that detail, “I could change my mind.”

His magic loved this place. It hummed in delight as they approached almost purring as it tingled under his skin and trailed behind him along the ground, and under. 

“I feel something,” she said as her hand pressed against the closest stone plinth.

She turned her eyes on him and Harry held out his hand. Their hands clasped while Hermione kept the other pressed on the stone.

Harry’s magic meshed with hers and then connected to the circle expanding, reaching out to everything around them. Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head as her back bowed, “It’s too much,” she moaned and grit her teeth, “How--how deep does it go?”

“All the way down,” A deep baritone rumbled through the clearing.

Harry’s skin felt tight as his spirit swelled. Something primordial reached out with his arms and pulled Hermione into an embrace. It was hard for him to think beyond the feeling of overheated flesh and the need to possess her body. They managed to stumble into the center of the circle before collapsing onto the ground. He fell into the cradle of her thighs and saw the amber in her eyes brighten with an inner light.

-0-

She felt the stone under her hand like a toothache smooth and so powerful that it hurt. Blinking her eyes against the light Hermione’s eyes roved over the circle and saw it thrumming with magic and life. They’d done something. Brought it up and feed on it as it had fed on them. 

Beside her, Harry was still sprawled naked in the grass, peacefully sleeping. Rolling to her knees she began to search for what she could find of their clothes. 

Dappled shadows and filtered sunlight danced across the grass in front of her. Lifting her eyes Hermione saw that a ring of ancient oak trees had grown around the stone circle. So large they might have been there for a hundred years, grown in an instant. The lower boughs were gnarled and bowed under their heavy weight, making them appear to almost crawl along the rocky ground. 

“We did this,” she whispered as her body stood and walked toward the nearest tree.

“There’s nothing we can’t do,” Harry rumbled eyes aglow, “I think I understand now, what they did. What we are, it’s so much more than I ever imagined.”

His hand covered hers on the trunk, their palms pressed against the rough bark, “This was a gift, it wants us to endure.” 

“From who?” She asked her voice wavering.

His silence thundered in her ears, “Who Harry?”

“The Peverell brothers forged a connection with it. It’s old whatever it is. Old beyond imagining. I think that the story was true. I think that it‘s Death, but the Hallows haven‘t made me Death‘s master. They‘ve made me into a compatible, living being. I can channel Death‘s power and magic and Death can live through me,” Harry pressed against her and rested his chin on top of her head.

She licked her lips nervously before asking, “And what am I?”

“The balance to my growing darkness.”

His words resonated within her, she felt them thrum along the threads that connected to everything. The life that fairly emanated from the gnarled oak under her hand yet another reminder of what she’d felt. The memory was hazed but something had looked out of her eyes, something feminine, something that felt pure, light and alive. An opposite to Harry in every way. 

-0-

“Don’t get mad,” Harry said after they’d both taken a seat at the dining room table. 

It was a bit absurd for two people to dine at the monstrous slab of ancient oak when the thing could comfortably seat fifty, but Winky and the other elves had taken over the kitchens. 

“Why would I get mad?” Hermione asked and narrowed her eyes.

“Er, well it’s just, I needed help and they wanted to stay,” Harry began to nervously ramble and lean away from her.

“Who wanted to stay?” She asked and leaned in.

“Some of the elves might have chosen to stay on the island, also there are five in the castle,” he admitted and clenched his eyes shut.

When nothing happened he cracked one eye and saw her giving him a look of unimpressed incredulity, “Not really all that shocking Harry, why else would you have been in the house elf relocation office if not to buy an elf.”

“I thought you’d be a lot angrier than this, maybe even stomping off to knit hats,” Harry smirked at her growing ire.

“I’m starting to think that you want me to get mad,” Hermione offered sweetly.

“No,” Harry laughed nervously, “Uh, Winky?”

The little elf popped into the dining room saw Hermione and half hid behind Harry, “Master Harry Sir and Master Harry’s Grangy, what can Winky be doing for you?”

“Oh for heaven's sake. Did you choose to be here Winky?” Hermione asked the elf as she peered around Harry’s chair.

She nodded vigorously, “Yes.”

“Then that’s that I suppose.” Hermione quirked a brow when the elf stayed half hovering behind the chairs, “Come would you? I’m not going to try and free you!”

“Promise?” Winky asked.

“I promise,” Hermione sighed and slumped back in her chair, “They were all so terrified of me by the end of fifth year that they wouldn’t even clean the girl’s dorm anymore,” she said and laughed humorlessly, “I’m pretty sure I even heard one of them call me, she-who-knits.”

Harry’s shoulder shook as he tried valiantly not to laugh, “Is there any way we could get some dinner Winky? I’d go get it myself but you won’t let me in there.”

Winky glared, “The kitchen is being ours!”

Harry held his hands up and nodded solemnly.

She snapped her fingers and the table was set, complete with a carafe of vegetable soup, a salad, and freshly baked rolls.

“This looks lovely, thank you Winky,” Hermione said and placed her napkin on her lap.

Hermione broke off half of a roll and buttered it before taking a bite and humming, “This is good.”

“I was just thinking about what you said earlier. That it could be the personification of Death. But, that reminded me of Hades and then you brought me here and fed me. Will I be allowed to leave?”

“You’re mine now Hermione,” Harry joked, “Don’t worry though I ordered fifty thousand books for the library so it’ll feel less like a prison and more like home.”

Hermione choked and grasped the napkin coughing into it.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, “Are you alright?”

She nodded and took a drink of her water, “You shouldn’t say things like that when someone is swallowing. You didn’t really order that many books?”

Her spoon dropped out of her hand, “You didn’t, that’s crazy.”

“Think of it as a gift from Walburga, I used the money from selling her crazy house to buy a crazy amount of books.”

She just blinked. He was pretty sure that he’d just short-circuited something. 

After they’d eaten Harry led Hermione around to see the main areas of the castle, including the library. Which was admittedly a mess. There were literally boxes stacked to the ceiling. He hadn’t had a chance to sort through the mess or catalog them.

Her eyes were wide and her fingers twitched as Hermione advanced into the three-story room. 

“When you go to Hogwarts next week try to get all the spells Pince uses on the school’s library would you?” Harry pleaded.

She nodded faintly, “If I go.”

-0-

Harry woke up the next morning much later than he had in weeks. There had been no nightmares for the first time in weeks. No lessons in things no one sane should know. No memories that weren’t his A glance at the other side of the bed showed Hermione to have already started her day. He’d bet a shrunken trunk of galleons that she was sorting through some of the boxes in the library. 

Swinging past the owlry on the way to the dining room, Harry collected the paper and several letters. 

I will admit to never having considered making the Mists even more difficult, rather than less; however, it was a very intriguing idea. In matters of excessive difficulty, I will raise you with the spells used in the creation of Azkaban. Ekrizdis was an evil wizard as dark as they come, but one thing he managed that no other has boasted and been able to prove, is he pulled the magma up from deep below the seabed and raised the land. There was no island in the north sea before Ekrizdis.

With that firmly in mind, imagine using the spell to raise markers that will never break free from the seafloor. I’ve included a second page which details the spell and how to cast it. Make sure to practice somewhere remote, lest you lose control.

While that is all very entertaining to consider, perhaps it would be best to just cast Mists as intended?

\- Flitwick 

Harry read the second page and was a bit blown away by the idea. Raise an island. Ron was wrong about Vader, this was officially the best bad guy power ever. 

The second letter was sealed with an unfamiliar coat of arms. Immediately he began checking it for curses and hexes. Finding none he unrolled it and couldn’t help but laugh.

He left everything on the table and headed off toward the library.

“Hermione, are you in here?” Harry called out from the door peering at the tunnel of boxes.

“Back here,” she called back.

“Right,” he grumbled and shouldered through the mess to the back wall. 

“Find anything good?” He asked and held out the letter, “Read this.”

She took the letter from him and began to ramble, “There were three different volumes of Hogwarts a History in this box, each one was different Harry. Not updated but completely different! Do you think the current headmaster has a say in what goes in it?” 

“Maybe,” Harry had never read any volume of that book and didn’t intend to.

“What is this?” Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the parchment, “What life debt, she’s insane. Draco owes us, not the other way around. The ferret would have burned in the Room of Requirement if we hadn’t gone back for him and Goyle.”

Harry rubbed his hands together dramatically and smirked, “Maybe I should get them all off and then mark them?”

She swatted at him, “You’re nothing like Voldemort.”

The humor bled from Harry’s face, “I know that. It doesn’t make me any less of a Dark Lord. How long do you think it will be before the Ministry comes knocking? The first time I lose control in public? Maybe after the first time someone notices our matching tattoos?”

He held up his hand when she opened her mouth, “No. Yesterday I told you that I was connected to something like Death and you recognized that as the truth, I know you did.”

“But, that doesn’t make you evil!” Hermione growled.

“I know that. I don’t even think I’m evil. I think that I’m a dark wizard and that will be enough for them to eventually turn on me. Think back to the summer after forth year. The Prophet was all too happy to claim that I was a delusional liar. Dean Thomas accused me of killing Cedric, did you know? In second year I was the next Dark Lord for being able to speak to snakes, and now I can speak the language of the dead.”

“Language of the dead, what. . .” Hermione grasped his face, “If the public turns on you again, or the Ministry comes after you, I’ll still be right there beside you.”

Harry’s face fell, “I know,” he whispered.

“You don’t think it will be enough. What do you think is going to happen?” She asked just as defeated.

“I think that eventually I’ll be charged with something. You didn’t see the way Auror Proudfoot acted and his team were terrified of me, Hermione. They weren’t rookies either, shite and then Kingsley immediately starting trying to recruit me into the Auror Academy. And I can’t do that!” Harry growled and the boxes all started to rise in the air.

“I mean for fucks sake, look at what happened at the Ministry! That guy was only mildly insulting and I cast a wandless nonverbal unforgivable, two actually since I purposefully cast an Imperio right after. If Proudfoot had been there I’d be in Azkaban right now!”

“Harry!”

“At least if I leashed the bastards then they wouldn’t be able to restart their idiotic blood purity crusade ten years from now, because they’d be mine,” he snarled and the haze that rippled the air began to turn green. 

“Harry, you’ve got to calm down!” Hermione yelled.

Harry snapped his head up to spit a response and saw the growing green light “Sorry,” he mumbled and began to try and reel it all in.

“Collecting your own--eh, you wouldn’t keep that name would you?” Hermione started and shook her head, “Amassing your own minions would only draw more attention.”

-0-

I regret to say that I will not be able to come this evening and see your attempt at the Mists. Hopefully, there are others you’ve called on to help? Something quite unexpected and altogether terrible has happened at the school.

While clearing out the rubble from the dungeons, two of the workers uncovered a potions lab that no one knew about. Whatever was inside spread and now most of us have a bad case of the flu. Pepper up has done nothing so far, but Slughorn is convinced it will pass quickly. 

Harry frowned at the letter and wondered what exactly had been released in the castle, luckily Hermione wouldn’t be headed back for another week.

He penned a quick response wishing the man well and offering to wait a few more days, though he did want it complete before Hermione left. She’d been pretty excited by the project and had already helped him raise the lava columns and create the markers. It had also served to get her mind off of the fact that he’d said he wanted to collect minions. They hadn’t argued about it since, but only because Harry hadn’t been stupid enough to bring it up again. 

“When’s he coming?” Hermione chirped practically bouncing in excitement.

“He’s sick,” Harry said handing over the letter.

“What, oh well that just . . .” Her brow furrowed and she began to bite her bottom lip as she read, “Something in a lab in the dungeons. Gods, I hope it wasn’t something that one of the Death Eaters made.”

Harry grunted in agreement. They’d need to find something else to occupy their day, he shot her a mischievous look. Perhaps she’d sneak off to the library and he could finally live out that old fantasy. 

-0-

Rolling out of bed Harry pulled on a pair of sweats and shuffled off to find Hermione, and maybe some caffeine in no particular order. He’d need it. Quite honestly he was surprised to find she’d woke so much earlier than he had, as it’d turned out, Hermione had a few fantasies involving the library as well. The image of her laid out on her favorite table like a feast, sizzled across his brain. 

Checking the dining hall and finding it empty he called for Winky.

“Master Harry sir.” She popped in with a breakfast tray and a pot of tea.

“Er, thanks Winky. Have you seen Hermione this morning?” He asked as he started filling a plate never one to turn down good food.

“Miss Grangy has came and went. Winky thinks she’s outside,” the elf offered up happily before popping away.

Just the idea of catching her outside had Harry eating so fast he could barely taste it. A final bite and another drink of tea and Harry took off at a brisk pace to find his woman. His. Harry was still pretty smug about that. 

Holding out his palm he cast a point me and followed the glowing arrow as it led him past the greenhouses, and the barn. When the oak trees came into sight his blood began to thrum. She was at the circle. Shaking the spell from his hand his steps became quicker until Harry was nearly jogging.

He found her standing next to one of the stones with her hands pressed against it and her eyes shut tight. Sneaking up behind her, Harry placed his mouth right over her ear and said, “Do you know what it does to me, to see you out here?”

Her eyes blinked open glowing a bright amber. Under their feet, the earth trembled as something else took note of her. Harry felt it clawing up at him scrambling to get inside. He sighed in relief as most of it expanded from him and into the clearing. 

Pushing his hands into her wild curly hair, Harry pulled her head back and lowered his mouth to hers. His magic wrapped around her and lifted her off the ground. 

Hermione gasped as her back was pressed against the standing stone. She pulled at the restraint bowing her body as Harry took the time to appreciate the sight.

“So lovely, an offering,” his voice came out as two voices twined as one, impossibly deep and alien.

They stalked over to her and ran a hand down her chest dissolving her robes into particles of dust and took one peaked breast into their mouth. Releasing her with a slick pop they asked, “Would you have us?”

“Please,” she begged and they were undone.

“We would give you everything,” he--they said, meaning every word.

-0-

Harry pushed the sweaty hair out of his eyes and gazed down at Hermione in concern, “Is it just you?” 

She laughed and smiled impishly, “That was strangely wonderful.”

“I get the feeling they love us as much as they love each other,” his arms tightened around her waist before he sat up and looked over the grove. 

“She was quite fond of you,” Hermione offered in answer.

His intensely bright green eyes focused back on her, “Did you get a name from her?”

She shook her head and said, “Images more than words. I came here after breakfast and communed with her a bit.”

Harry conjured two robes and handed her one, “What did you see?”

“She lived here and planted the oaks. Her clan built the circle and on Beltane, she communed with something they called to them, it gave her a child. That was the only word I understood. Gwythryn. She died here giving birth to him,” Hermione trailed off quietly. 

When she glanced back at him, she found him staring at her stomach.

“Is... uh, are you?” Harry stammered as several emotions bled through.

“In theory, no. I’m on the potion Harry, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation,” she quirked a brow and laughed at the sheer relief on his face, “Would that be so terrible?”

“What!? No. I love you. I’d love any children we had, heck I’d even drag you to Gretna Green right this second if I thought you would let me,” he rambled embarrassing himself enough that he had to look away from her.

“That’s sweet and also the worst proposal ever,” she snarked and couldn’t help but laugh when Harry pouted, “For the record, I would marry you.”

Harry picked a few blades of grass and braided them with magic into a band before transfiguring it into silver, “Would you marry me, Hermione?”

Hermione took the ring from him and slid it onto her hand smiling down at it, “We can grab Luna on our way to the Smith. She can be our witness.”

-0-

“Maybe we should have sent a letter first?” Harry said as he took in the complete destruction of the Rookery. 

“I’d forgotten that Mr. Lovegood was attacked here when they came for us,” Hermione walked through the charred ruin, “Did you talk to Luna after the battle?”

Harry shook his head, “I was dealing with,” he put his hand over the mark and winced, “I’m a terrible friend,” he mumbled as he found a radish charm bracelet laying amongst the rubble.

Hermione drew her wand and cast her Patronus, then stood there gaping at the thestral that appeared. 

“So you do love me, eh?” Harry joked and kissed her on the cheek, “Mines a thestral now as well.”

She nodded mutely and ordered the thestral to send a message to Luna Lovegood, “Luna, Harry and I came by the Rookery to look for you. Are you alright?”

Instead of cantering of, the thestral walked slowly through the yard and around to the back. There behind where the house had stood was a wizarding tent. Hermione’s patronus walked right through the front flap.

The two stood there wincing at the shriek of surprise a moment later. 

Mr. Lovegood and Luna both scrambled out of the tent not long after, both looking worse for the wear. Harry opened his arms when she walked over and enveloped the small blonde in a tight hug, “I’m sorry that it took me so long to check on you, Luna. I wish you’d have sent a letter or something, we would have helped.”

Luna nodded against his chest and sniffled.

Mr. Lovegood stood uncomfortably in the background, his hands in his pockets as he fidgeted. He looked ten years older than he had last time they’d seen the man.

“I’m sorry, for trying to turn you in,” he mumbled in a grave voice that matched his haunted eyes and gaunt face. 

Harry nodded, “I reckon that I’d have done the same if they’d had my daughter. We don’t blame you for that.”

“Thank you Mr. Potter, that means a great deal to me,” he said looking fondly at Luna.

“Can I ask why you’ve not begun to rebuild?” Hermione asked with a backward look at the burned-out husk. 

“Daddy kept a vault at home. The fire destroyed it and the printing press, so we really couldn’t,” Luna said smiling sadly as she stepped away from Harry.

“Why don’t you both come stay with me?” Harry suggested.

Mr. Lovegood frowned, “We wouldn’t want to impose.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose as Harry snorted and said, “We have plenty of room.”

Luna gave her father a hopeful look and they could see the moment it worked as the man’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “If you’re sure that would be alright.”

“We would be delighted,” Hermione interjected before Harry could say anything else and then pulled Luna aside and asked, “We’d actually come to see if you’d go with us to Gretna Green. Will you be our witness?”

A brilliant smile broke across Luna’s face as pulled Hermione into a hug, “I’d be honored to stand with you.”

Even Mr. Lovegood’s mood had improved with the request and he congratulated them, even mentioned his own wedding there to Pandora, much as they could see her memory pained him. 

“Will you be inviting the Weasley’s as well?” He asked staring in the direction of the Burrow.

Harry’s mind blanked, “Er, I forgot all about them.”

Hermione smacked him on the shoulder but then added sheepishly, “Me too. Think they’ll be happy for us?”

Harry doubted it. Ginny had moved on and was dating Dean Thomas again, but the whole thing was sure to be awkward. To say nothing of Ron. Harry couldn’t always guess what would set their ginger friend off, but he’d bet this would do it.

“Well, nothing for it. Are you going to tell Molly that we’re eloping, or shall I?” Harry asked Hermione with a smirk.

“She’ll send a howler if we don’t tell her before we go,” Hermione murmured.

Even Mr. Lovegood winced.

Harry hummed and then stammered, “Well, I suppose we could just stop by and tell them we’re going tomorrow then? It’s already half four. We’ll take these two back to the castle and get them settled in and just try this again in the morning, yeah?”

Hermione was too busy lamenting their inability to be spontaneous to notice the Lovegood’s shocked reaction to the word castle. 

By the time the Lovegood’s had packed everything up, it was getting dark. So rather than walk through the connecting fields they all apparated to right outside the Burrow’s wards. Paranoia from the war was hard to shake. At the sound of several apparitions, the Weasley’s burst out of the house with wands in hand.

Harry waved, “Hey all.”

“Harry is that you? And Hermione! Well, you’re certainly a sight for sore eyes dear heart. You should have come round before now,” Molly gushed and then jerked to a halt and tilted her head, “Xeno, oh my and Luna. Hello dear!”

“Hello Mrs. Weasley,” Luna offered a small smile and accepted a hug from the matronly woman.

“We were just about to sit down to dinner. There’s always plenty if the four of you would like to join us?” Molly asked as she herded them into the house.

“Hey mate, what’re you two up to?” Ron asked right as George exclaimed, “Harrikins!”

“Hey guys,” he smiled sheepishly his shoulders slumped.

“Would you look at that face Ron, our Harry has done something.” George chuckled and gave Harry a look that demanded an explanation.

“Well see, the thing is. . .”

Mr. Lovegood, Luna and Hermione were nowhere to be seen when Harry glanced around for moral support, “Traitors.”

“What’s up, mate?” Ron asked and playfully shoved Harry.

Harry sighed, hoping this wasn’t the end of their friendship, “Hermione and I started dating a couple of weeks ago and, well--we’ve kind of decided to er, well. We were going to elope tomorrow but figured we ought to come by and let you know.” 

“Wow. Can’t say I was expecting that,” George cleared his throat and looked at Ron.

Ron’s face was flushed a red so bright it clashed with his hair.

“Ron?” Harry nudged Ron and braced for what was sure to be violent. 

He nearly fell over when instead Ron shook his head and said, “I’ll try to be happy for you both.”

Something about that statement made Harry’s eyes water, “Thanks, Ron. We both still care a great deal for you and your entire family, it would have gutted us to have any of you hate us for this, you know?”

Ron nodded and let out a sigh, “Yeah.”

Ginny hadn’t taken it as well. All through dinner, her face was flushed and she kept looking between the two of them and frowning. Hermione had even asked how Dean was and Ginny just shrugged and said fine. Overall Harry would say the entire affair was a success and the rest of the Weasley’s were happy for them. Even happily agreeing to run off with them tomorrow morning to the Smith.

-0-

“Welcome to Castle Potter,” Harry chuckled at the looks of surprise and waved the Lovegoods up the stone path to the entrance.

“When did you get a castle, Harry?” Luna asked as she skipped ahead.

“Er, I bought it two days after . . .”

Everyone knew what he meant by that and failed to add or comment. The wounds from the end of the war were still festering for all of them. 

Harry took the two on a tour, showing them the still in progress library. Both showed an interest in helping Hermione sort the mess if only to look for treasure. 

They stopped in the dining hall to introduce the castle’s newest inhabitants to the elves. Then Harry settled them at the top of the tower that housed the library. It had been set up as an apartment by one of the previous occupants and would give the two plenty of room and privacy.

“This is lovely. Thank you, Harry,” Luna said as her eyes trailed every corner of the main sitting room. 

“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Lovegood added.

“I’m happy to help and please, call me Harry,” he said as he opened the doors and showed them the bedrooms and bath.

“Then you should call me Xeno,” He returned.

“If the two of you want help unpacking or anything, I’m sure that Winky or any of the elves would be happy to help. Call them if you need anything tonight. I know it’s been a long day and you’re probably tired so we’ll get out of your hair and see you in the morning,” Harry said and waited for Hermione who was hugging Luna again.

The two finally slunk back to their own bedroom and Hermione tried to assuage Harry’s worries that he’d scare their new roommates with his wonky magic. Even going so far to put up silencing charms all around their chambers in case of a violent nightmare. 

As he was about to fall asleep he heard Hermione say, “We should try to find him a new printing press. What would the world be without the Quibbler?”

-0-

“Wakey, wakey!” George shouted as he laughed and set off a firework.

Harry sat up in shock and everything in the room lifted before slamming back to the ground.

“Merlin Harry!” George guffawed.

“George? What’re you doing here?” Harry asked still half asleep.

“Why Harrikins, I’d almost think that you weren’t glad to see me! Why, you gave us the Floo address and said to come over. Gretna Green Harry! Up!”

Married. He was about to get married. 

“Now, now. None of that. The girl loves you, get up!” George grabbed his blanket and pulled.

“Oi you berk!” Harry grumbled and pulled the pillow over himself as George howled in laughter. 

-0-

When he finally managed to get downstairs he found the dining hall in chaos. There were several people milling about that were most definitely not Weasley’s. Spotting Hermione he hurried over and whispered, “What’s all this?”

She smiled tightly, “Molly said it was a shame that we’d not be having a real wedding and made calls. Did you know the Smith makes house calls? Well, he does. She sent George ahead to let me know and to make sure there was room in your backyard for a party. God only knows what George told her about the place once he’d seen it,” she snorted. 

“Anyway after that, once Molly knew there was plenty of room and that the Smith was available and willing, she planned an entire wedding in one evening.”

Harry glanced around at all the people with grudging respect even if he wasn’t really comfortable being around such a large crowd. 

Bill was there with Fleur and Charlie. Arthur was standing with Percy and Penny. Ron was skulking about with George which was actually kind of frightening. Neville Longbottom was standing in one corner with Xeno, Luna and his grandmother Augusta. 

He recognized a few faces from the DA, like Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, and Dean Thomas who was glaring at him, lovely. 

“Harry!” Seamus slapped him on the back hard enough to shift him forward, “Good to see you again mate.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry smiled and hoped it didn’t look forced.

Hermione made excuses for them and they weaved through all of the people toward the group that was formed around the Smith. 

-0-

Of course, the Smith had looked out on the grounds for the perfect place and found the standing circle. Maybe it was destiny Harry thought, that this union would happen in this spot no matter what. 

Everyone just fit in the space between the oak grove and the standing stones. The Smith was a little more authentic than his muggle counterpart that married people in town. Garbed in the old fashioned dragon hide apron and carrying the tool of his trade, he stood before the main ritual stone, with his anvil placed atop it. 

“Welcome Friends, family, and loved ones. We are all here today to witness Harry and Hermione join hands and be bound together by their love, now and forever.”

Harry watched wearily as four volunteers began to cast a circle and was thankful that most of the attention was being paid to the Smith as he continued the service.

“Today is a day to celebrate the love of Harry and Hermione. They are two people who are the halves of a whole. Two souls, coming together to form one single being; two hearts, beating in a single rhythm.”

Harry’s mark began to tingle at the Smith’s words and out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw shades walk out of the oaks.

“Today we join in our support of them as they offer themselves to each other. We celebrate their love, their joy, and their expectations.”

The Smith turned to the volunteers. Bill Weasley gave a nod and said, “We call upon the guardians of the north. Join us and make our circle stronger.”

Charlie Weasley repeated the plea for blessings to the east, George for south and Ron completed the circle by saying “We call upon the guardians of the west. Join us and make our circle stronger. With this light, our circle burns bright!”

The large pillar candles that had been put in place did more than light. They blazed with eerie green fire that shot up two feet. 

There were murmurs as the Smith turned back to them and said, “Let us now pause to establish ourselves in the consciousness of the Holy Presence as we pray. We acknowledge Thy Presence and Thy Power, Blessed Spirit.”

More than one spirit joined them at the circle, including Death and his lover, who shined behind Hermione’s eyes.

“We give thanks that these two souls have been drawn together by divine appointment, and will be held together by the power of divine love.”

Something inside of Harry was deeply amused by those words. Divine. It whispered in Harry’s mind with a deep chuckle.

“We rejoice that through this mystical union, these, two, now become one, will experience soul satisfaction and fulfillment, and that your blessing, is upon them and that your love is expressing through them now and always. Blessed be.”

Everyone in the clearing whispered the words back, “Blessed be.”

“Today, we ask that the infinite light of the divine shine upon this union. In that spirit, I offer a blessing to this ceremony.

“Blessed be this marriage with the gifts from the east -- new beginnings that come each day with the rising sun, communication of the heart, mind, body, and soul.

“Blessed be this marriage with the gift of the south-- the light of the heart, the heat of passion. And the warmth of a loving home.

“Blessed be this marriage with the gifts of the west-- the rushing excitement of a raging river, the soft and pure cleansing of a rainstorm, and the commitment as deep as the ocean itself.

“Blessed be this marriage with the gifts of the north-- a solid foundation on which to build your lives, abundance, and growth of your home, and the stability to be found by holding one another at the end of the day.

“Bride and Groom these four simple blessings will help you on your journey that begins today. However, they are only tools. They are tools which you must use together to create the light, the strength, the infinite energy now and forever of a love you both so richly deserve.”

Infinite, Death whispered to Harry as his hands began to tremble.

The Smith turned to Harry and asked, “What is your name?”

“Harry Potter.”

“And what is your desire?” The Smith continued.

Their voice deepened, “To join with Hermione, Whom w-I love.”

“Will you seek to do her harm?” The Smith inquired.

Harry’s breath hitched as Death pulled back enough for him to answer the rest of the Smith’s questions in first person singular. And was deeply relieved when it was Hermione’s turn to recite her vows, but every time she did so, he felt his mark burn as though they’d taken unbreakable vows.

Their hands were bound with ribbons instead of exchanging rings. 

“Harry and Hermione as your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust. Above you are the stars and below you is the earth. Like the earth should your love be a firm foundation from which to grow stronger through the seasons. Like a star should your love be a constant source of light. Like a flame should your union be warm and glowing with the love of your hearts. Like the wind may you sail through life safe and calm. Like water should your relationship remain clean and soothing, that it may never thirst for love.

“May the God and Goddess bless this union.”

Blessed BE 

Someone shouted in surprise, even the Smith was a bit unprepared for divine participation.

“May--May all who encounter it be blessed with love. May your lives be full and your hurts be few. May you draw forth, each from the other, the highest and the best. May you be open and receptive to divine inspiration and guidance.”

My hand will ever guide you, child 

“M-m you express p-poise, patience, and understanding with each other. May your lives blend together in harmony and joy and may your days be good and long upon the earth. By the winds of change, by the fire of love, by the seas of fortunes and the strength of the Earth do I bless this union.”

Harry felt something large behind him, felt its long arms wrap protectively around his shoulders. 

“Your two hearts now beat as one, your two souls now deeply joined anew--walk forward together, forever hand in hand, may your marriage be a lifelong celebration of love! Now that the rituals are complete, you have made your promises and exchanged your vows. By the power vested in me as an Officiant and in the laws of this state, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

The Smith noticed Harry’s companion before he could finish and nearly stuttered as badly as Quirrell had in first year when he said to kiss the bride. The poor mans’ hands shook so bad that Harry and Hermione had to help him remove the knots. 

“I-It’s with great honor I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.” As soon as he said this the Smith turned to the volunteers and waved his hands frantically, “Close the damn circle!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh as the four Weasley’s frantically sought to do just that.

Then he looked beyond those who’d been invited to see the dozens of shades Death had called to witness.

A gift for you, Death whispered in his mind.

“Mum, dad?” Harry stumbled forward past the ring of the living into the shadows cast by the old oaks were those that’d passed were watching.

None of them spoke just smiled before fading away.

“Holy Merlin, what the hell was that shite!” 

Harry heard someone curse. 

Compared to the ceremony the reception was tame and free of deities, and other such otherworldly beings. 

-0-

Harry Potter Married!

By - Andy Smudgly

Yesterday morning the-boy-who-lived to be the-man-who-conquered married Hermione Granger in a private ceremony held at his estate on the Isle of Gwythyrn. 

Attendants commented that vows were exchanged within the isles standing stone circle in a traditional handfasting. Though several witnessed events that were anything but typical of such a union.

“The Smith asked the God and Goddess to bless them, and something joined us in the circle. It was more a shadow than anything but it sort of stood behind Harry and said Blessed Be and then said that His Hand would always guide Harry.” 

A quote directly from one of the few invited, Seamus Finnegan.

Man-who-conquered touched by God? While none here at the Prophet can confirm or deny such a thing, one thing is certain, several ghosts appeared to watch the two marry, including James and Lily Potter, see pictures below taken by Susan Bones. 

We at the prophet want to congratulate the young couple on their nuptials. . . 

Harry rolled his eyes and tossed the paper onto the table. Luna snatched it up and read the article in full, smiling all the while, “Well you were touched by something. But it looked a lot more like Death to me,” she said in that dreamy voice of hers. 

“You know, I remember you asking about that symbol,” Xeno said and nodded to Hermione’s wrist which she’d failed to cover. She blushed and pulled at her shirt sleeve. All the while Xeno send him a knowing look. 

Two owls flew into the room and dropped down for Harry with scrolls attached to their legs. Harry removed them and offered both birds a piece of bacon.

The first was an offer of congratulations from Narcissa Malfoy and a second plea for help in their families defense. Harry sighed and looked over at Hermione and handed her the letter, “I’m telling you, it would be better to have them under our thumb. We should just go to their trial and help free them. Better to do that than let them stew and come back guns blazing in ten years.”

Hermione rubbed her temples after reading the missive, “Fine, but you get them firmly under control. If the ferret so much as looks at me funny . ..”

“Mr. Malfoy always made sure that I had food when I was in his cellar.” Luna hummed and gave them a broken kind of smile, “He didn’t even have a wand.”

Xeno was sitting rigidly, his jaw clenched tightly as his daughter recounted her time as a prisoner in Malfoy Manor, “He should have done more than that! He’s your uncle!”

Luna’s eyes squeezed shut as her hands clenched around the paper, “He did try daddy.”

“Uncle?!” Harry and Hermione asked at the same time.

“My wife’s brother. She was disowned for marrying me,” Xeno sneered in an uncharacteristic show of anger, not at all the dotty man they were used to.

Harry cleared his throat, “Would you be deeply offended if I were to speak for them at their trial?”

Xeno narrowed his eyes, “I can understand the need to have them owe you.”

“Understanding isn’t what I’m asking for,” Harry said apologetically, “If you tell me not to, I won’t go out of respect for your family.”

Xeno gave him a flinty look that softened when it passed over his daughters face, “Luna doesn’t blame them,” he sighed and waved his hand, “Do what you want Mr. Potter, any future grievances I have won’t be with you. Though you might pass along that Bellatrix burned my printing press and that they should buy us another!”

Hermione smiled impishly, “I will be sure to pass that on,” she turned to Harry and quirked her brow imperiously, “I mean it, Harry. They’re civil or I’ll drop them naked into the Forbidden Forest on the full moon.”

Xeno was swallowing some tea and began to choke.

“Noted,” Harry replied dryly and unrolled the second letter.

“Who’s that one from?” Hermione asked before taking a bite of toast.

Harry didn’t answer until he’d finished, “It’s from Professor Slughorn, Flitwick died.”

“What?” Hermione snatched the letter.  
Harry explained what he’d been researching with Flitwick and what the man’s last letter had said to the Lovegoods. Luna was pretty torn up over their old Professor’s passing.

“Slughorn was wrong about whatever it was obviously and he didn‘t offer any information. I’d say we could Floo Minerva but that’s not such a great idea if everyone was affected some of them might be contagious,” Harry said judging from the look on her face that she was ready to do just that.

Her face fell and she nodded, “I’ll write to her and Poppy as well to see if it's safe to visit,” Hermione popped up from the table as she said this.

“Hey,” Harry stopped her before Hermione could leave the room, “Keep in mind that the Prophet just published our address on the front page. We need to go ahead and cast Mists today, I don’t want people showing up here.” the, now that we’re not waiting on Flitwick was left unsaid.

-0-

“Where are we casting from?” Hermione asked as they gathered the last of their supplies. 

Xeno and Luna had both expressed desire to see the ancient spell cast and were equally awaiting his answer.

Harry’s eyes began to shine brighter, “We will cast from the circle Wife.”

Xeno almost reached out a hand to touch Harry so great was the other’s pull before Luna pressed down on his arm and secured it by holding her father’s hand. If one looked close enough they would see the small tremors still running through the man. 

Hermione smiled knowing that she’d be alone until they reached the stones as Death’s lover never ventured beyond them, “That will give us more than enough power.”

“You would question us?” Harry, they asked, with a teasing lilt to their otherworldly voice.

“No husband, I wouldn’t,” Hermione smiled mischievously and added, “What would happen if I did?”

He chuckled, the sound so deep it send shivers through the other three. 

A storm had rolled in that morning. The water on this side of the island was crashing over the markers that stood several feet above the surface. Almost as if the sea was protesting the loss ahead of the casting. 

As Harry stepped into the circle, Death pushed out of him and hovered over his shoulder. Death’s long thin limbs did the motions of the ritual, as Harry’s mirrored. Raw magic rose from beneath in an amount that even Harry was unaccustomed to. 

Xeno dazedly dropped to his knees and panted, one arm held out in front of him firmly pressed to the ground. Luna sat down next to her father and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as the magic continued to ebb and flow, cresting high above them and then moving forward in a hazy wave of green colored light. 

Harry and Hermione’s hands twined as Death helped them through the working. Their hands held out and pointing to the first marker. The shiny wet stone column lit like a beacon. A line of magic shot from it to connect with the next.

Clouds above grew darker as the waters continued to rage. Thunder cracked as the sky opened and rain began to fall in a solid sheet, pouring down on the four. 

They pressed on ignoring the water that ran into their eyes, afraid of losing their concentration for even a second. As the third marker lit, lightning crashed down on the beach melting a few of the smaller stones into a giant piece of glass.

Xeno moaned against the ferocity of the magic still completely enthralled. 

Hermione began to flag sometime around the tenth marker and Death’s love joined with her to renew her spirit. As this happened Death too rejoined with Harry causing the magic to leap in intensity.

Luna pitched forward and began to pant, trying to desperately brace herself with her hands. Her father had given up on that front and was lying prone staring straight at the sky. 

When the wall of green light enveloped the whole island in a circle there was a high pitched wail. As her throat began to spasm Luna realized it was her making that terrible sound.

The guttural words leaving Harry’s mouth were beyond anything the human body should be able to naturally produce. His face was tilted back, those too bright glowing eyes glaring near hatefully at the sky. His unknown words rising in tempo as he screamed at the gods to bend to his will. 

Then there was blissful silence. Luna’s hand came up to touch her ears and it came away wet and red with her blood. She was still staring at her bloody hand when the sun abruptly broke through the clouds and the sea calmed. 

Everything into the horizon was covered in a mist that the sun would never clear.

-0-

It took several days for everyone to recover but none of those present had suffered any permanent damage, though Luna and Xeno’s hearing was still a bit sensitive. 

At breakfast on the fifth day, all of them were finally well enough to have their morning meal together. 

“Did you ever hear back from Hogwarts?” Hermione asked as she joined them at the table.

Harry’s brow furrowed before his mouth popped open and he groaned, “We haven’t gotten a single owl since we cast Mists. Shite.”

She pursed her lips and sighed, “Well, how do we fix that?”

She glared at the sheepish look on Harry’s face. He shrugged helplessly, “I don’t have a clue.”

“Does the Floo still work?” She asked getting a bit more angry with him.

Hermione was ready to throttle him when he shrugged, “I suppose you can at least answer how we leave and come back?” She asked testily.

Harry pointed a finger at her, “Yes! It’s like the Fidelius only we cast together so we’re both secret keepers,” having said as such he turned to the Lovegoods and said, “Potter Castle is on the isle of Gwythyrn in the Outer Hebrides.”

Luna smiled happily and commented, “But I already knew where I was.”

Harry shot Hermione a look and said, “It would have become an issue if you’d left the island. Only someone in on the secret can pass into the Mist, but anyone can leave.” 

“Thank Merlin. So the Floo out should work then?” She asked still clearly irritated. 

“No,” she held up a hand, “Do not say, I don’t know again!”

Harry picked up his fork and shoveled in a bite of mash. 

-0-

Hermione tossed the powder into the Floo and called out for, “Hogwarts Headmistress’ Office!”

The flames remained silent, the flickering green mocking her. 

Closing the connection, she tried again this time for the hospital wing. Dread filled her when it too remained unanswered. Was it the Mists, or had something happened to everyone at the school? She almost didn’t want to know if it were the last.

Catching up with Harry, she told them all what had happened and then said she’d check from her cottage. Harry offered to go with her, but she’d told him that it wasn’t necessary. 

Now staring at the still empty Floo, this time from a connection she knew worked, had her wishing she’d taken him up on the offer. Luckily her subscription to the Daily Prophet was paid in advance so there’d been a stack of them on her porch.

Hermione unrolled the oldest and saw the front page had been all about her and Harry again. There was more speculation on his parent's ghosts being in attendance, even one side article that questioned whether or not he’d performed some dark bit of necromancy. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed throwing the paper aside. 

The next paper was more useful in that Flitwick’s obituary and death notice was on the fifth page. A horrible tribute for a man that had done so much for so many of their children. That the reporter had mentioned Flitwick’s part goblin ancestry made her want to throttle something. Aside from the that there was no mention of the issues at Hogwarts or of any other staff members being sick.

With classes slated to begin tomorrow, she found this especially strange. Then she opened the paper from two days ago and gasped.

Potion’s Mishap has Hogwarts Quarantined. 

By: Andy Smudgly

Last week during the rebuilding of Britain’s most premiere school of magic, Hogwarts, two volunteers were clearing rubble from the collapsed sections of the dungeons and uncovered a secret potion’s laboratory. It’s unknown at this time whether or not the contents of the room were intentionally malicious or a result of the mixing of various ingredients and finished works; however, the results were a school-wide sickness that appeared at first to mimic the common wizarding flu. Regular Pepper-up potions were found unable to remove the symptoms or cure the ailment.

Consultations were made with St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical maladies, but experts remained stumped on the identity of the highly contagious disease that has spread amongst the entire staff and inhabitants of Hogwarts castle. 

Yesterday evening it was reported that Filius Flitwick, Professor of Charms and previous dueling champion, succumbed to the disease and has passed on. As the castle remains in lockdown those able will be holding a service for the man and remand his body to the cemetery normally used for the Headmasters.

It’s unknown at this time if any of those infected were able to leave the wards before the discovery of the disease’s nature was made. In light of this St. Mongo’s head of Communicable Diseases, Healer Teresa Smythwick has released this statement :

“The beginning symptoms of the disease mimic closely those of the regular Flu. Patients were heavily congested, complained of frequent headache and sleeplessness along with a high fever and body aches. Please be advised that the patients under the care of Hogwarts infirmary were quick to decline. If you exhibit any of the symptoms listed and have had any contact with any of those that have recently worked or visited the school, please limit your interactions with others and contact a health care professional immediately.”

Hermione sat the paper down with a growing sense of dread and unrolled yesterdays issue. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. 

Conditions at Hogwarts Worsen Several Dead 

By: Andy Smudgly

It is with a heavy heart that we at the Daily Prophet report the death of Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonnagal. The still unknown disease also claimed Madam Poppy Pomphrey, and three volunteers Hilda Swan, Roberta Billywigs and Hestia Carrow. With the school still quarantined and no post going in or out, we can only express our heartfelt condolences to the families of those lost and pray for a quick resolution least the others be so affected.

A monument for those lost has been erected between the village of Hogsmeade and the edge of the school's wards. Hundreds have been lighting candles and leaving flowers keeping all those trapped at the school in their hearts and on their minds. . .

Hermione wiped the tears from her face and opened this mornings paper already sick at her stomach. There was another follow-up but no new death notices. At the bottom of page two, she saw a notice that the Malfoy trial would begin in two days.

She sneered after reading the notice and considered not telling Harry.

After grabbing a few items she’d left behind in her hurry to run away with Harry, Hermione went to the spare bedroom window that’d been charmed to allow her owl in and out of her cottage. 

“Hey, Barrel.”

The brown spotted barn owl blinked sleepily at her seemingly too tired to even bother with the treats she’d sat out, “Such a lazy little guy,” she chortled as the bird opened one eye and hooted, “Smart too, eh?”

The bird settled down at his proclaimed intelligence.

“Barrel,” the bird opened its eyes, “The Potter Castle is on the isle of Gwythryn in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland,” she whispered feeling entirely silly when the owl just closed its eyes again to go back to sleep.

Rolling up a piece of parchment that held the single word ‘test’, she tried again to wake the bird, “Barrel, I need to send a letter to Harry Potter.”

One amber eye popped open and glared, “I know, but I really need to send a letter,” she pleaded.

Barrel let out a low hoot that sounded for all the world as though the bird were sighing. In the end, Barrel stuck out his leg and accepted the letter before taking off in the early afternoon.

After a quick visit with the Weasleys to share the secret and check in, Hermione disapparated to Hogsmeade and was blown over by the sheer volume of well-wishers and mourners. There was a crowd around the monument six deep and a sea of flowers beyond them.

She sat the tiny stuffed tabby cat amongst them and said a prayer for all those still sick. Turning to leave her shoulder bumped into another solid body, nearly sending her to the ground.

“Watch it Mudblood!” 

Hermione turned to snarl at the idiot just in time to see Neville Longbottom’s fist land in a satisfying thump into the side of Marcus Flint’s face. The older ex-Slytherin’s eyes rolled up into his head as he fell back to the ground. 

“I’ve actually wanted to punch him in the face for a long time, so I guess I should thank you for giving me a reason,” Neville comment dryly before giving Hermione a genuine smile, “Good to see you, Hermione.”

“You too Neville, we didn’t really get a chance to catch up at the wedding,” she gave him an exasperated mock glare and huffed, “Molly just sprung that on us, you know? We were supposed to elope to Gretna Green.”

“Really?” He laughed as he lead them back toward town, “I never would have pegged you for one of those.”

“It was spontaneous, or it was supposed to be,” she offered ruefully.

“It normally is,” he nodded.

Their mood lessened as they passed a woman crying, “This is all so horrible. Do you think they’ll find a cure in time to save the others?”

“I hope so,” she whispered, “Do you know someone stuck in quarantine?”

“No, I’d just read about Professor McGonnagal and came to pay my respect. She was such a fierce woman. You should have seen her go toe to toe with the Carrows last year,” he smiled sadly, “I can’t believe the flu took her out. The woman that stared down a giant and cursed at him for trying to hurt her students,” Neville’s eyes welled with tears, “Nothing scared her.”

“Every inch a Gryffindor,” Hermione’s voice wobbled as she turned and sobbed into Neville’s side.

They stood near the entrance of the Hogshead and held each other as they cried for a woman that had always looked out for them. Once they’d pulled themselves together Hermione held out a piece of paper and told him to read it.

“What is it?” He asked as he unfolded the parchment.

“The Profit published our address so we put up some new wards, read that and memorize it,” she insisted.

As soon as Neville understood what he’d read Hermione burned it and vanished the ashes. “Come visit sometime?”

-0-

That evening an entirely exhausted and very irritated owl winged it into the dining room and dropped down next to Hermione’s plate.

“Barrel, you did such a good job!” She praised the bird and tried to give him a bit of roast only to have him bite her finger, turn his head all the way around and hoot loudly. 

-0-

The next morning Hermione apparated back to her cottage again, to collect the morning paper as they’d yet to figure out a way around public owl mail delivery and found an owl waiting on her with a letter still attached to its leg.

“Well hello, sorry you had to wait so long,” she offered and removed the missive.

Habit had her checking it for hexes after the incident in fourth year. After finding nothing she opened it to find that it was from her father. 

Hermione,

I’m still angry. I don’t know that I ever won’t be. That’s a terrible thing to say to ones only child, but I can’t help myself. A part of me wishes that you’d returned our memories but removed the ones of Australia or of hearing you tell us what you’d done. Horrible, I know. 

Even worse, I write to you out of necessity. It is maybe the most selfish I’ve ever been in my entire life. To write to you with only the intent of acquiring aid. 

Your mother has the flu, some rare strain of bird flu or the like. It’s hit Sydney particularly bad. Hospitals are filling up and several people have died. Nothing is helping her and she is literally the only thing that I have--that I know to be real. I need you to come. Please. I can’t be alone in the world after--everything.

Your father

-0-

The mood was solemn at the castle that evening as the four people sat around the table and read over the days paper and discussed the letter Hermione had received from her father.

“Coincidence?” Harry asked.

Hermione’s face was in her hands as she shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“Muggles have had different waves of the flu that nearly wiped out entire cities in the past and it was all naturally occurring,” Harry countered. 

She sobbed and shook her head, “They didn’t say anything about spilling something in that lab, which means it could have been something that was slow acting and released the night of the battle.”

“It could have,” Harry agreed, “We don’t know that’s true, but why would there still be people unaffected right next door in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked and looked from each worried face.

Xeno leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, “Did you know that the Black Plague was created by Nigellus Black?”

“What?” Hermione lifted her face and focused on the other man.

“Nigellus created the Black Plague and infected hundreds of transfigured rats that in turn,” he waved a hand, “Well, it only affected those without magic and squibs. No witches or wizards died to that particular disease.”

Harry and Hermione were both suitably horrified. Harry leaned in and asked what everyone was thinking, “You think it’s basically another Black Plague?”

“The only people listed in the paper as having died, were elderly or those who had recently taken spell damage and now muggles,” Xeno rambled for once not mentioning anything imaginary, “Harry could probably walk right into Hogwarts without ever being affected.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair and said, “We need to check muggle London, Paris and a few other major cities in different countries. The Daily Prophet never mentions muggle news even when it's relevant. For London, we could just walk out of the Leaky and have a look. . .”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll send letters to Viktor and Fleur, they’ll know if anything strange is happening in Bulgaria or France. We can check London in the morning and maybe watch the telly at the cottage for the news? It picks up the local BBC.”

“If this is anything like the Black Plague, we’ll need to stock up on everything. Seeds, livestock, hell extra clothes, who knows what might happen,” Harry muttered.

“I want to take a port-key to Sydney to my dad, see if I can help my mum,” Hermione spoke quietly as she deftly ignored the chilly glare coming from Harry.

“You’re not going alone,” his eyes glowed as he growled, “It’s not safe!”

“He’s so upset Harry, and he hates magicals now. He won’t want you there,” she crossed her arms over her chest and stared forlornly at the tabletop.

“Ugh,” he growled and focused on his breathing as the books floated up into the air and began to spin, “You’ll take an emergency return port-key and a two-way mirror and you will absolutely not tell him this might be a magically made plague!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes but gave a firm nod of assent, “I’ll leave as soon as I get all those things together, it’s early morning there. You all can check London and go to the cottage for the telly, I’ll mirror as soon as I know what’s happening there and then we can plan further.”

“I have to be at the Ministry at seven, so I can check Muggle London when I leave,” Harry countered, “If you and Luna would like to go watch the news at Hermione’s cottage I can come back for you when I leave London?”

They all agreed on the revised plan and headed off to try and sleep. All but Hermione, who was shoving a bunch of things into a familiar beaded bag.

-0-  
“Morning Mr. Potter, I’m Dodge Max from the law firm Dodge E. and Dodge E.R, Defense for the accused,” Dodge greeted and held out his hand for Harry to shake. 

Harry took the hand and barely grasped it before letting go. Dodge even felt Dodgy like oil-covered water poured into an expensive set of robes. 

“We weren’t sure that you were going to come, I find myself pleasantly surprised,” Dodge smiled. 

Harry’s own was more of a grimace, “Is there any way that I could speak with Lucius before I’m called in as a witness?”

Dodge narrowed his eyes and just stared for longer than was polite, “It can be done, but I was under the impression you were a character witness for Narcissa and Draco.”

“I‘d really appreciate a private conversation with Lucius,” Harry nodded to the door, his face cracking into genuine humor at the other man’s scowl.

Lucius was in the Ministry holding cells and had been, for months. Thankfully he was allowed visits from his defense attorney. Harry wasn’t supposed to be allowed down in the cells, but Dodgy made it happen. 

Malfoy was a sad sight. His long blond hair was streaked with gray, oily and tangled. His eyes were haunted and hadn’t noticed them enter his cell, he was just staring at the wall.

“Are there Dementors down here?” Harry asked.

Dodge’s face scrunched up in incredulity, “You can’t feel them?”

Harry looked back out in the hall and saw that there was, in fact, a Dementor just feet from the cell, “Oh.”

Dodge waved at Lucius, “Get on with it, they’ll call us in thirty minutes.”

“Could you step out?” Harry asked politely.

Through all this, Lucius made no move to acknowledge either of them.

“What could I do to make him worse?” Harry continued, “He’s unwell.”

Dodge’s nostrils flared as his jaw clenched, “Fifteen minutes and then we have to head for courtroom ten!”

As soon as Dodge stepped out of the cell, Harry cast a muffliato and his patronus. The thestral hovered by the cell door, pushing the Dementor away far enough that its effects began to wane on Lucius.

“Wake up!” Harry snapped and hit Lucius with a low-level stinging hex.

Lucius groaned and turned slowly, the slight widening of his pupils the only tell of mental recalibration.

“I hear you’re looking at twenty years this time,” Harry smirked, “That’s a death sentence in your condition.”

He’d been expecting anger, what he got instead was a sigh and a suspiciously wet-eyed Malfoy.

“Have you given up then?”

Lucius met his eyes and huffed, “Are you real?”

Harry hit him with another stinging hex, “Pay attention, Lucius!”

Those icy blue eyes focused in anger.

“Narcissa wants to try and use a life debt to get me to be a character witness for her and Draco,” Harry admitted.

Lucius grunted, “Draco,” he spoke the single word and blinked rapidly before turning away.

“I will agree to work toward the release of your entire family, but only if you do something for me, Lucius,” Harry purred in a voice that was suspiciously deeper than it’d been seconds ago.

“W-what do you want Potter?” Lucius asked in growing lucidity.

Harry found that interesting. The more magic he let out the clearer Lucius’ thoughts seemed to be. Ozone filled the air as it hazed green between them. Lucius gasped and his eyes fluttered, “My Lord?”

Harry chuckled, “I could be.”

“What is this?” Lucius tried to stand and fell to his knees before Harry, gazing up in equal parts horror and awe.

“I will save your family. All you have to do is take my mark and vow yourself to me,” Harry offered with a smile that was all teeth.

Lucius offered his already marked arm without hesitation, “I’d let you kill me if it would save them.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Harry said and cast a silencing charm before he placed his hand over Lucius’ dark mark.

Harry let go and pushed his magic into Lucius, the man screamed as his body jerked under Harry’s hold. Less than a minute later they were both looking at the changed mark in appreciation.

“I prefer this,” Lucius slurred, “Less gauche.”

Harry snorted, “Of course you do. That tasteful looking little mark will kill you if you betray me. I’ll be in the courtroom when you testify and answer their questions. You will agree to Veritaserum.”

“My Lord?” Lucius brow furrowed in confusion.

“Your Lord will keep you from saying anything incriminating. It’s time I take my leave,” Harry snapped his fingers and cleaned the other man up, then gave him another shot of energizing magic before he left.

Dodge was standing right outside of the cell wide-eyed and in clear disbelief, “You just.”

“Dodge?” Harry said.

When Dodge turned Harry whispered, “Obliviate, boy that Dementor is wicked, are you alright?”

“Yeah, those things really get to me,” Dodge admitted dazedly as they climbed the stairs.

-0-

Narcissa and Draco hadn’t actually needed much help getting an acquittal, Harry wasn’t sure that he’d made much of a difference either way. The Ministry had always been lax with the old families and this was no different. In his mind, it was more proof that he needed to hook a few of them and reel them in.

When Lucius was called before the Wizengamot, they’d expected an open and shut case. This was a man that was serving a five-year sentence when he’d been broken out by the Dark Lord, only to commit more crimes. They’d not expected anyone other than his wife and son to speak for him. 

Harry wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Narcissa and Draco, or the members of the Wizengamot when he was called to the stand. Narcissa had started sweating no doubt thinking that Harry would railroad her husband in retaliation for the demand for aid.

What he did instead was weaved a tale of a man that had been taken hostage in his own home, that had been threatened with the death of his only child.

The Chief Warlock blinked and parroted the sentence back, “He said that he had no choice and that if you gave him the prophecy, he’d lead the others away so that you could escape?”

“He did,” Harry offered simply and then added, “He was also the only one there that night that didn’t try to kill me, he continually cast stunners.”

The Prosecutor cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at him, “In late April you were taken by snatchers to Malfoy Manor, and tortured. Held prisoner against your will, while Lucius Malfoy stood by and did nothing, is this not also true?”

“I’ve never been to Malfoy Manor,” Harry said and the Wizengamot lost their collective minds.

Mrs. Davis was incensed as he’d known she would be. It was common knowledge amongst the students of Hogwarts, that Mrs. Davis had married a muggle at the height of the first war, and been made example of. Part of the reason their only daughter Tracy Davis had been persecuted so heavily in Slytherin house for being a half-blood.

“I have six eye witness accounts that place you, Ronald Weasley and one Hermione Granger--”

“Potter,” Harry offered with a smile.

“I--I’m sorry?” She asked with frustration.

“It’s Hermione Potter,” Harry said and smiled.

“Hermione Potter then. That you were seen arriving in the company of Fenrir Grayback and John Scabior, that they abducted and then imprisoned you at Malfoy Manor.”

“As I said before, I have never been to Malfoy Manor. I was taken to a manor house that had been overrun with degenerate criminals. It had been vandalized and its former occupants were wandless and cowering in fear. It ceased to be Malfoy manor months before I was ever taken there.”

“Mr. Potter, I’m close to asking the Chief Warlock to hold you for contempt. Were you or were not at Malfoy Manor the last week of April 1998?”

“I suppose that I was, yes.” Harry offered.

“Lucius Malfoy was in residence and was present during your imprisonment and the torture of your wife?” She pressed with a gleam in her eye at the mention of his wife.

“He was standing behind a chair the only time I saw him. He was using it for support as he was unable to stand unaided. There were tremors in his hands and arms, common with overexposure to the Cruciatus curse and he was wandless.” Harry countered internally enjoying vexing the woman.

“Nothing further,” she grumbled.

When Lucius Malfoy came out in chains she already looked triumphant but when he agreed to take Veritaserum, Davis lit up like the sun.

As soon as those three drops hit Lucius’ tongue, Harry reached out through the mark and took control of him. A useful trick Harry had learned from Godelot, who‘d degenerated enough under the influence of the Elder wand to have cast a very similar mark on his son Herewalt, that Harry had used on Malfoy. 

“State your name for the court.”

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy,” Harry said without emotion.

“It’s working.”

“Have you cast an unforgivable since October 31st, 1981?” She asked.

“No,” Harry said using Lucius’ body like a puppet.

Davis began to turn puce as Harry, through Lucius, was able to deny everything, and claim imperius where he couldn’t. Harry was glad that Mrs. Davis couldn’t set fires with a thought or she’d have burned them to a crisp. 

They had to give him the antidote to clarify a few points, which was Davis’ undoing.

“The last time you were tried before this August body, you offered no testimony and refused the use of Veritaserum. You were found in Death Eater regalia having broken into the Department of Mysteries with your fellows. There you and several others attacked six school-aged children and caused untold damage.”

“Mrs. Davis, we are not here to pontificate please ask a question,” the Chief Warlock interjected.

“Why were you at the Department of Mysteries that night Mr. Malfoy?”

“He returned at the end of that blasted tournament and came to my home. He tortured my wife and I and threatened to mark my fourteen-year-old son as a punishment for failure. He said that Narcissa and I would be killed and that Draco would live on in His ire, to pay for my crimes. I was afraid for my son,” Harry kept Lucius’ voice steady but allowed his body to tremble.

“Crimes, what crimes are those Mr. Malfoy?” Mrs. Davis asked.

“Failure. I failed to come to His aid. I failed later to kill school-age children, as you pointed out. I’m afraid that I just had no desire to do so.”

Mrs. Davis growled, “You were serving a five-year sentence to Azkaban and escaped after having served only a single year.”

Lucius body shook harder as he hissed, “I would have rather stayed, but as I was given little choice in the matter, you are correct.”

The prosecutor scoffed, “You would have rather stayed, I find that unlikely.”

Lucius leaned forward shaking so hard that the chains rattled, “He fed those that disappointed Him to that snake of His if they were lucky.”

“I don’t know how you’ve done this! But, I know that you’re guilty! You’re a sycophantic bigot with little empathy for others! You belong in prison!” Mrs. Davis screeched having long lost any composure she’d once possessed.

“Badgering Mrs. Davis, do wrap this up,” The Chief Warlock said after bringing the hall back to attention. 

“Nothing further,” she growled and stomped away, her eyes promising murder should she ever cross Lucius’ path outside the courtroom.

“It’s time to put this to a vote. Raise and light your wand if you find the accused guilty.”

Harry panicked a bit when over a dozen wands lit.

“Not guilty?”

The hall light up.

“Lucius Malfoy this court finds you not guilty of the crimes for which you’ve been accused. You are free to go.”

Bedlam in the witness gallery as hundreds of people began to scream at the Chief Warlock and the Wizengamot. 

“He bought his way out again! There’s no way! The man is guilty as sin!”

Harry released Lucius’ body when he felt his own jostled by the growing madness of those in the stands. Luckily, Lucius was quite spent and he fell to the floor unconscious.

-0-

Harry headed for the exit but was waylaid by Kingsley Shacklebolt who’d recently been sworn in as the interim Minister for Magic.

“Harry, can I speak with you?” Kingsley asked as he walked alongside Harry.

“Can you cast a Muffliato?” Harry requested as he continued walking toward the lifts much to Kingsleys’ aggravation.

“I still haven’t managed to find a new wand Kingsley,” Harry quirked a brow and stepped into the lift, squeezing in with a dozen others.

Kingsley followed but neither spoke nor cast the privacy spell until the lift stopped and the two stepped out into the atrium. The Minister flicked his wand and hissed, “What was that? Lucius Malfoy, Harry?”

“Everything I said was true,” Harry answered blithely as he stepped out into Muggle London. From a certain perspective, he added mentally.

Kingsley just stopped and stared at him intently, “Did the Malfoy’s have something on you, did they threaten you? Help me understand!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Harry snarled, “Don’t think that I didn’t notice Dolores Umbridge in there!”

“She isn’t marked, we can’t throw everyone in Azkaban that worked at the Ministry while it was in Voldemorts’ power, it would be empty!” Kingsley growled.

“Then maybe it should have been! That vile woman is evil, far more than Lucius Malfoy ever was!” Harry yelled and glanced around Whitehall. The street was normally bustling but today it had a distinct lack of muggles.

“Are you even listening to yourself?”

Harry wandered over to the closest newspaper stand and pretended to put coins in, deftly stealing a London Times. 

“Are you ignoring me now?”

“Hmm? No, I came out this entrance because I’d heard a rumor that London was infected by whatever has Hogwarts quarantined,” Harry unfolded the paper and pointed to the headline. 

Bird Flu Turns Deadly, Thousands Dead 

Kingsley’s face crumpled, “That can’t be right,” he grabbed the paper and began reading the story, his face growing stony as his eyes passed over it.

“This is happening in Sydney as well.” Harry offered.

Kingsleys’ eyes jerked up from the paper and met Harry’s, “That’s on the other side of the world!”

“It is,” Harry said simply and shrugged, “While the Wizengamot is sitting around trying to decide if all half-breeds should be allowed to breathe, a new plague has been released, from Hogwarts no less. Perhaps you should focus on that?”

Kingsley narrowed his eyes, “Expect me to be in touch.”

Harry watched the man walk away somewhat apologetic. Kingsley had always been supportive of him. Still, it seemed ridiculous that someone like Dolores was free. That woman was a stain on humanity, far worse than Malfoy for certain. Lucius hadn’t constructed concentration camps to stow away all the half-breeds and muggleborn. Nor had the man accused them of stealing magic and had them kissed. Truly, Delores was a monster on par with the Dark Lord.

The muggles weaved around Harry as he stood in the center of the sidewalk looking out toward central London. A shadow coalesced around him in a swirl of negative energy.

Can you feel them? Death whispered into Harry’s mind. 

“Feel who?” Harry whispered aloud, causing one pedestrian to look over at him.

Thousands of souls waiting to be reaped, Death said.

The man who’d stopped by Harry’s side pulled a tissue from his pocket and noisily blew his nose. 

“S’rry got a bit of a cold,” the muggle apologized before walking toward the entrance to the tube.

-0-

Luna and Xeno sat on the squashy couch completely at odds with the décor and their understanding of the muggle device they were watching avidly. 

“Hermione!” Harry shouted at the two way hand mirror for the sixth time.

“. . .As hospitals continue to fill, the infected are being instructed by health care professionals to limit their interactions with others in the hopes to slow the spread of the worst flu in recent memory. The CDC has likened it to the Spanish Influenza of the nineteen-tens, making it the most deadly strain in over a century. . .

. . .have with us Dr. Pong Li the head of Communicable disease at John Hopkins . . .

Best to stay indoors and stay hydrated. Dehydration can kill an individual in a surprisingly short amount of time . . .

. . .avoid touching your face after you’ve handled objects that might have been infected by others. Disinfect doorknobs and... frequent washing of the hands... ” 

“Hermione!” Harry shook the mirror as though that might make her answer. 

Luna’s large glassy eyes swiveled from the television screen to focus on Harry, “Maybe you should just go.”

The carpet under Harry’s feet began to smolder as he glared at the mirror. He swore and put it out, then stomped outside before he ended up shorting the telly. 

It was entirely too nice of an evening. The sun was mild but there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Harry felt that it should better reflect his foul mood, almost wanted to rage at the heavens.

“I told her it was dangerous. But did she listen? No! Fuck!” Harry growled and paced around only managing to kill swatches of the yard in his rage. 

“Hermione!” Harry’s voice deepened as his eyes began to glow.

Something shifted in the reflection. Harry brought it closer to his face, staring intently at what appeared to be a tile floor. Someone coughed raggedly in the background. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked again watching as the backs of someone’s fingers wrapped over the glass surface on the other end.

“You’re him then,” A man’s voice rasped.

“The demon that turned my daughter into a monster,” the voice trailed off into hacking wet coughs, “T-the thing she married.”

The fingers shifted as the coughs increased, making Harry dizzy as he stared at the jumbled image intently. With every jerk of Mr. Granger’s hand, he had another view of the room. 

“My little girl would never have done that to us . . .” Mr. Granger choked and began to gag before a glob of something bloody splat against the tiles. Bare feet shuffled through the mess, blue-tinged and bloodless under the toenails. 

“Had to help you, she said!” The man let out an inhumane keening sound as the image bounced and he began to sob, “Help you by erasing us, what’s real?” 

The bare feet shuffled through a puddle of something that looked an awful lot like blood.

“You’re all fucking monsters,” Mr. Granger slurred before beginning to hack.

The mirror spun through the air as it was dropped. Harry watched through narrowed eyes as a framed painting spun out to show a towel rack. Another flip the bathtub. Another, it stopped and rolled across the tiles. The mirror clattered to a halt on its side and in it’s reflected image Harry saw a pale face surrounded by wild curly brown hair.

“Hermione!” Harry screamed.

“Harry,” Luna approached him slowly, glancing wearily from his hand that held the mirror to his wild day-glow eyes, “The Telly blew up and caught on fire.”

Xeno grabbed her arm to keep her from getting any closer to Harry. The look on Harry’s face promised murder. 

“Her father attacked her,” Their voice hissed as Harry welcomed Death into his body. 

Xeno shook as his arms wrapped around Luna and pulled her back into his chest.

Harry brought the mirror back up and stared at the image once more. Shadows collected around him until he was more a column of darkness than a man. Green glowing eyes lifted to the Lovegoods before they winked out of existence as the darkness dissipated taking Harry with it.

“That wasn’t apparition,” Luna remarked calmly as Xeno squeezed her tighter. 

“Your friend scares me, darling,” Xeno admitted quietly staring at the blackened grass where said friend had stood.

“It’s part of what makes him a good friend daddy.”

Xeno shuttered.

-0-

Harry Potter rose from the ground in a swirl of darkness like an eldritch horror. His body melted gracefully onto his knees before his wife’s crumpled body. She was waxy and as pale as the tiles, the puddle of sticky red under her having stolen all the color.

A wheezing cough behind him alerted Harry to the presence of Mr. Granger.

“I figured you’d come,” the man wheezed.

“And we have,” They whispered a dark promise back. 

They turned to swivel their head to better see Hermione’s father. The man that claimed the brunt of their hatred was sitting on the floor, leaned against the door. His face was ashen with deep bruises under his bloodshot eyes. 

“Demon,” Mr. Granger whispered in horror as he fought to keep eye contact. 

“I would never have asked her to do what she did. As much as I love her, I agree with you, that it was wrong,” Harry offered as he peeled away from Death’s consciousness. 

Mr. Granger began to sob. A horrible wet thing beyond empathy for the daughter he’d tried to destroy. Harry grasped the man’s face and fell into his eyes. Images drifted past of Hermione arriving and tracking him down at the hospital, where Helen Granger had just died. Harry saw her try to console this shell that had been hollowed out and bring him back here. They argued over whether or not he’d take a potion, he’d not wanted anything to do with any magic. She’d gone to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet for anything that might help his cough. A distorted image of the bathroom mirror as her father stood behind her with a knife. The recognition and horror as she looked down at the blood splattering on the porcelain.

This one is broken, Death whispered into Harry’s ear. 

Harry pulled memories up that were much older, letting the other man see what Harry saw. A four-year-old Hermione determined to learn to ride a bike as Mr. Granger pushed her down the drive, over and over, smiling all the while. Pressed kisses on scraped knees and Christmases with Helen. 

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Granger slurred, “So, sorry.”

Harry closed his eyes at the amount of pain swirling around in Mr. Granger's mind. With a sigh, Death joined him and they called Helen. 

The shade of Helen Granger appeared knelt by her husband's side. They spoke the words that would free him from his broken cage and watched dispassionately as it quickly turned to dust. A portal of light formed in front of the couple now standing hand in hand. 

“You’ll help her?” Mr. Granger asked looking sadly at Hermione’s prone form.

“We will,” They hissed as the couple walked into the light.

-0-

Harry left black spots on the pavement as he strode with Hermione cradled in his arms. Death hovering like an extended shadow as the three beings walked quickly through muggle Sydney to the entrance of their magical district. 

There on the left, Death guided Harry with one hand pressed against his back.

The muggles they passed weren’t sure what they were seeing, but many ran in fear from the sight they made. Harry found the Outback Café, Australia’s version of the Leaky, and pulled the door open with force. Every single patron turned to stare at the spectacle. 

“Merlin’s nuts. What the hell is that?”

Harry ignored the man and shouted, “She’s been stabbed, I need a blood replenishing potion!”

Stools pushed away from the bar and some starting shouting as others ran to get potions and the like. The café became a hive of activity as they all tried to help Hermione. 

“’Er we go. Hold the girl’s head up,” An elderly woman commanded as she sat on the dusty floor, creaky knees and all.

Her long gray hair blocked Harry’s view of Hermione as the woman poured the potion into her mouth, “Jus’ help rub her throat so’s she’ll swallow it, lad.”

“Need another Elle, girl looks white as a sheet?” Another asked holding a second vial.

Elle grunted and grasped the potion, “Girl was about empty I’d say.”

Death pulled away and faded into the shadows as the situation got under control. Harry sighed in relief as his magic began to settle. Things crashed all around him as they clattered back down to the ground. 

“You’re jus’ a lil bit frightening for such a wee man,” Elle commented as her eyes left the shadows and focused onto Harry.

Harry smirked and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Was that a shot at my height?”

“Now Elle, I’d say he makes up for it other ways,” the man who’d brought the potions guffawed and motioned around them.

Every glass in the café was cracked, even the front plate window. It was easy to see where Harry had come from, he could just follow the scorch marks along the hardwood floors. The marks that the bartender was currently trying to repair with his wand, to no effect. At its worst Harry’s darker magic left a stain that was hard to repair or heal. 

Elle and two others went back to casting healing spells on Hermione while the bartender began to rant.

“Comes in here like the devil and wrecks the place! I can’t even fix this shit. Might have to cut that part of the floor out!” He grumbled as another repairo was tossed at the floor.

Every eye shifted to Harry as he stood. The bartender lifted his hands and made a placating gesture. Harry wasn’t paying much attention to him though, instead taking note of everything he’d ruined. Closing his eyes, Harry pulled just enough up to erase what had been left in the wounds, then waved his hand and sent it back down. 

There was a choked gasp as Harry opened his eyes. Now that the remnants of the darkness had been sent away, Harry was able to cast an overpowered repairo. 

Things began to snap back together in reverse of how they’d broken as Harry’s too bright eyes roved over them. The last thing to plink into place was a single shard of glass that had popped out of the front window.

The only sounds in the café were of rustling clothes as some fidgeted. Their breathing far more deafening than speech as they all stared in silence. 

“Harry?” Hermione’s hoarse voice called out to him like a prayer.

He went over to her so quickly a few of the old timers would later say, he’d apparated right to her side, never mind the wards. 

“You had me so worried,” Harry said, his voice thick with emotion.

He pushed her wild, blood-caked hair out of her face and kissed her chastely. 

“Thank you for coming for me. I was so scared. I thought...I thought I’d die there. I was so cold,” she whispered.

Harry sobbed and pulled her up into a seated position, hugging her to him, “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’ve got you now.”

She nodded against his shoulder and began to weep, “Can we go home now?”

A crack settled over the stunned clientele as the echo of aparition rang out in the café.

Elle stared hard at the floor where the girl and her wizard had been. Her wizard. The young man that looked barely old enough to be called as such. He’d been darkness incarnate, the most potent dark wizard she’d ever encountered and at one-hundred twenty-two that was saying something. Still, for all that he’d made her feel like she’d been standing at the gates of hell, that wizard sure seemed to love that girl. 

-0-


	3. Got/HP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the world, but Lovegood has a plan. A little dimensional hop right into the Game of Thrones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything. Harry Potter and Game of Thrones are owned by J.K. Rowling, G.R.R. Martin, and HBO respectively.  
> This story contains adult language and situations, and canon-typical violence.
> 
> -0-

Godric's Hollow 

-0-

Harry read the scrolls that Luna had provided warily. 

“It’s our best chance to start over,” Luna claimed.

They were all desperate, that was no secret, but using a ritual to cross dimensions into another similar world. That sounded like pure madness.

“How do you know we’d even survive such a trip?” Hermione asked as she held out a hand for the scrolls.

As the resident researcher, Harry wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just been given to her in the first place.

“It was what my mother was working on when she died, but the runic work has been fixed. The matrix is stable, it’ll work, well--for Harry anyway,” Luna added somewhat reluctantly with none of her usual levity.

Hermione sighed and tossed the scrolls onto the table, “You think that only Harry would survive? Why show us then?”

Luna cleared her throat and shared a glance at each of their faces, “Harry is the Master of Death.”

Harry sputtered and tried to deny the claim, only for Luna to reach over and place a hand on top of his, “You are and as such, this form of travel is safe for you. That glamour is excellent Harry, but it doesn‘t change facts.”

Hermione gave him a look that promised a long future conversation, “While it’s nice to know that at least one of us will survive this, how does this help the rest of us?” She asked.

Luna skipped over to the other side of the room that held her brewing station and plunked a huge vat of red potion off the shelve, “Harry’s going to adopt us as blood kin. We’ll be his bonded blood siblings, it’ll protect us enough that the journey will just be uncomfortable.”

Harry’s eyes were wide in shock.

“Show me the Arithmancy,” Hermione demanded, completely ignoring Harry’s sputters and her husband Ron’s growing ire. 

Luna smiled widely and sorted through a stack of journals before humming happily and pulling one out, “Here.”

-0-

Stealing through the war-torn alley, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak in closer and shivered. He’d not wanted to rummage around the remains of Diagon, but there were something’s they needed for their journey that couldn’t be transfigured. Though what would be left here was anyone’s guess. 

No one had been expecting the muggles to enter into another world war, much less ruin the planet with their weapons, but that was exactly what had happened. In the end, the wizarding world had been exposed but by then it hardly mattered. The muggles had bombed themselves back to the dark age and no one was really sure if they could overcome it. 

As it was, the few thousand magicals still kicking around had only survived due to old family enchantments and estate warding. At least, those far enough away from the blast zones. London, for instance, was still red hot. Harry had been volunteered to go because of his affinity with death. Luna’s words. And, well, he’d not wanted anyone else to get sick, so he’d agreed. 

-0-

“Did you get everything?” Hermione asked as she checked him over, as though she might see evidence of radiation poisoning.

Harry waved her off, “I feel fine. And yeah, but I had to go to Hogwarts for seeds and the like. Everything in Diagon was, really dead.”

Hermione blinked wet eyes as she nodded, “Well, that’s good then.”

Suddenly the women perked up tremendously and she rounded on Harry, poking a finger into his chest, “Did you think to empty the library?”

Harry chuckled, “This reminds me of the time you said, ‘Oh, Harry, what if we’re killed, or worse, expelled!’

She pouted and stomped her foot, lifting her chin in challenge. 

“Yes, alright. I got all the books and everything from the greenhouses and anything else I could find.” Harry would only admit to finding some elves still alive later on if they survived the trip. As it was, he was sure that Hermione would kill him, if she knew they were transfigured into little beads that he’d shoved into the Mokeskin.

Hermione squealed and practically vibrated in happiness, “Thank you, Harry!”

-0-

Harry added his blood to the cauldron and watched in fascination as it turned a vibrant emerald hue. Once his part was done, everyone else added a drop of their own blood and Luna finished off the concoction with a spell that sounded more like a song to his ears.

Luna cheered and ladled out the potion into several crystal vials handing one to each of the people in the room. 

Hermione was studying hers as though she’d like to ask a million questions, but thankfully the direness of the situation won out and she said, “Bottom’s up!”

As one, Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Andromeda and Teddy, all knocked back their potions. Before the pain of the transformation set in, Harry was quick to notice Ron hadn’t taken his. It would be strange, going from being married to someone, to becoming their sibling.

“Luna, you might have mentioned how painful this would be,” Harry grunted and dropped to his knees. 

None of the others commented beyond their incessant cries and outright wails. Not that he could blame them. It felt like the Cruciatis, but worse. Like every piece of him was ripping itself apart at the seams. Thankfully not long after his mind shut down and everything faded away.

-0-

“Feel like I got hit by a lorry,” Harry groaned as he peeled his face off of the carpet and discretely wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth.

There were a few answering grunts and more than one expletive in response.

“I’m going to kill you, Luna.”

Harry managed to roll over enough to see that the unfamiliar voice belonged to a woman with an equally unfamiliar face. He blinked owlishly as he tried to figure out who she was. Promises of murder weren’t all that unique to her, as he too was considering ending the aforementioned woman.

“Harry?” The woman questioned with a furrowed brow.

The fact that she wasn’t sure who he was either, prompted Harry to conjure a mirror. 

“Whoa,” Harry gasped as his features cycled through several changes, “Luna, you didn’t say anything about the sharing of magical abilities!”

The younger woman he’d been looking at, smiled sadly and shook her head, “I miss Dora so much. I think it’s nice.”

“Andy!?” Harry croaked.

Indeed Andromeda Tonks was unrecognizable, aside from the color of her hair, everything else, including her apparent age, had changed. 

She wasn’t the only one that he didn’t recognize. In fact, Andy, Hermione, and Ron all had black Potter hair and bright green eyes. It wasn’t clear with Luna and Neville as they, much like himself, had picked up the Metamorphmagus ability. A fact that amused Teddy to no end, never having been around another Metamorph before. 

“I’m short,” Ron lamented from his spot in front of the bathroom mirror.

Harry scoffed, “You’re still taller than me, mate. So shut it.”

It was true. He was still on the short side of average height for a man. Though he had grown a few inches or shifted into them, who knew how that worked. Hopefully, he finally looked a bit older. Luna hadn’t been lying about the glamour. He’d been holding out hope that because he was so powerful, he was just aging very slowly, but now it was harder to ignore the obvious truth. 

Just attempting to walk across the living room caused him to trip and fall in a tangle of limbs.

“It’ll take some getting used to dear,” Andy said with a chuckle.

Harry rolled his eyes, so many things about Dora made sense now, “We’re the same age now Andy, dear.”

Andy clucked her tongue and gave him a look that would have brought him right into line, had she still looked like her deranged sister Bellatrix and not a petulant female version of himself. As it had many times that morning, the very thought of a female version of him, sent Harry into a gale of laughter. 

“God, not again. I swear Harry, with that cackle all you need is an ugly cat and one metal glove,” Hermione muttered.

“Metal glove,” Ron asked, though Harry was quite curious himself.

“Muggle cartoon, eh. . . never mind,” she sighed.

Harry wished the Dursley’s had let him watch just a bit of the telly. It was strange to say the least, being muggle raised, but knowing less about muggle popular culture than some purebloods. 

-0-

“Here, I made one for each of you,” Andromeda handed each of them a necklace, “Just put it under your shirt and make sure the pendant is touching your skin,” she said.

“What is it?” Neville asked as he turned the small silver pendant in his hands.

Luna smiled dreamily as her hair shifted through a rainbow of colors, “It keeps the Blibbering Humdingers away.”

“Sure. And,” Andromeda added with a quirked brow, “It’ll also keep you in your base form.”

Harry snatched the necklace, happy enough with the thought of not tripping over his own feet for a while, “I didn’t know there was anything like this.”

Andy chuckled, “Well, Dora used one, until she was about three or so, by then she had control enough to not need it when we went somewhere.”

Harry examined himself in the mirror, in his base form. Turning his head to the side, he shrugged. He looked a bit like a member of the Black family now, but other than the purple eyes, he still recognized himself. Darting his eyes over to Luna and Neville, he saw that they too shared his new looks.

“Bella’s eyes,” Andy said in a quiet voice.

Neville shuttered and closed his own violet eyes, turning away from them.

“When we were children she wasn’t like that. It wasn’t until she married that bastard Rodolphus that she changed,” Andy offered.

Neville wasn’t of a mind to listen to any stories of the women who’d killed his parents; however and was quick to leave the room. Andromeda sighed and turned her downtrodden eyes to the ground, “I know she was terrible, but I loved her.”

Harry opened his arms and pulled Andy into a hug, “Crazy or not, she was your sister,” he murmured.

-0-

Harry took his place in the circle, staring down at the three items inside the center. It’d been a task to retrieve the wand pieces and the stone. Parting with the cloak was more difficult than he thought it’d be, but the other two? Good riddance to bad rubbish and all that. Maybe this whole bonding thing would distribute the burden and he’d start aging again or curse them as well. He’d settle for either so he didn’t have to be alone.

“You do have all of the shrunken trunks on you?” Hermione asked, for the third time.

“Yes. And yes, that includes all your books. If you ask one more time, I’ll chuck them,” Harry griped.

“You wouldn’t,” Hermione said looking extremely scandalized at the thought.

While the two of them bickered, Luna finished getting everything ready for the ritual and then took her spot in the circle, “Everyone link hands and remember, whatever happens, don’t let go.”

No, he thought, not ominous at all. He shuddered at the thought of someone letting go and ending up in a void between or something.

Luna started the chant and the runes painted onto the floor began to glow as magic built up in the room. Every hair on his body stood on end as the power continued to climb to a fever pitch. Just when Harry thought the pressure of it would make him implode there was a horrible ripping sound and a gust of wind.

“Don’t let go!” Luna screamed as reality bent around them.

Harry only got a small glimpse of something that couldn’t really be described before he clenched his eyes shut and focused on the need for a new world. A new home for them to have a second chance at life.

The hands grasping his, tightened until the sensation was painful, but Harry ignored it, even when his bones creaked. Somewhere far away, he thought he heard someone screaming, but none of that mattered. Not when it felt as though he was being squeezed through a tube and hurtling through space at an ungodly speed. He hoped the landing wasn’t going to kill them.

With a thunderous crack, they appeared, still holding hands, in the air above the ground. Harry had just enough time to cast a cushioning charm beneath them. They all slammed into the thankfully spongy ground and bounced a couple of times before rolling to a stop.

Hermione was sitting nearby staring at a beaded scrap of cloth and frowning. “My beaded bag just imploded,” she said glancing up at Ron worriedly as all their things from the home they’d shared had been inside of it. But, there were no items strewn about, everything was just gone.

He’d not expected them to land in an old growth forest. The clearing they were standing in was surrounded by positively ancient looking trees, whose canopies were hundreds of feet in the air. It reminded him of pictures he’d seen of the Redwood forest in America.

“This doesn’t look anything like Scotland,” Harry said.

They’d been holed up in an abandoned castle not far from Godric’s Hollow for months after most of their extended families had been killed in the initial bombings. He’d really expected them to appear inside of it, but if that castle didn’t exist here then, well he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

“Definitely cold enough to be Scotland,” Neville grumbled and flicked his wand to cast a warming charm on himself.

The others were quick to follow his lead.

“We need to set up the wizarding tent and ward it before we explore. Right now, this place doesn’t look a thing like our old world. So we shouldn’t risk Apparition,” he said.

Harry got the tent out and began to set it up while Luna cast several wards on the immediate area. Once that was accomplished, Harry retrieved some of the supplies they’d need for the immediate future, and settled down in the tent’s living room, for a rest. 

That form of travel was not for the weak of heart. It had really taken it out of him. 

-0-

Harry handed each of the others a broom and a satchel, full of food and emergency supplies.

“Make sure to check your mirrors often. I don’t really like the idea of us all flying in different directions, but as Hermione has pointed out, this will shorten the time needed to map the area.”

Their goal was to map the landmass and try and find other people. Attempts to use point me’s and the like had all failed to point to anything. As far as the spells were concerned, this place didn’t have a Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, nor any of their counterparts. It had been disheartening, but they were hopeful they’d find people today and get some much-needed information. None of them wanted to camp out in the woods indefinitely.

Each of them kicked off and went in separate directions.

-0-

Hours later they’d all apparated back to the clearing, exhausted and overwhelmed by what they’d all found. This world wasn’t anything like their old one. Luna had spoken of parallel worlds that were divergent, but similar. What they’d gotten instead was a medieval world that was wholly foreign. Everyone but Neville had found some small hamlet that centered around a holdfast or castle. Neville had found a cold desolate rocky stretch of beach, but no people.

“I disillusioned myself and walked around the town, but couldn’t understand what anyone was saying,” Luna offered.

Andromeda looked pensive, “You know old Barty had a way to learn languages that wasn’t precisely legal. Not that it stopped the bastard, for all that he persecuted anyone else for less,” she said.

“Barty?” Neville asked sharply.

Andy cleared her throat, “His father, not eh, not Barty junior. Sorry, Neville.”

“That’s right! I remember someone telling me that Mr. Crouch knew over two hundred languages,” Hermione exclaimed then frowned, “I always thought that was an exaggeration.”

Andy shook her head, “No. It was a questionable potion made with the blood of the native speaker,” she said.

Hermione grimaced, “That’s dark magic.”

Andy huffed, “Not really. It only takes a single drop for each potion. It isn’t as though it would kill them.”

Harry shrugged, not really caring about the morality of the thing. He’d never been one to learn foreign languages with any sort of success and they needed to be able to communicate with their new neighbors if they were to have any kind of life here, “I say we do it, as many times as we need to. No Hermione,” he said and cut off the impending argument he could see brewing, “We need to be able to understand these people, how else will we start a life here?”

“We could just do it the old fashioned way, you know. . . Actually, learn it,” she grumbled.

Neville shook his head, “Sorry Hermione, but I’m with Harry. I’m no good with languages.”

No one else raised any concerns, other than when this would become an actuality. Hermione sulked at being outvoted not understanding that she was perhaps the only one amongst them even capable of quickly learning a new language with any kind of proficiency.

“Can you make the potion, Andy?” Harry asked as she was the best brewer amongst them.

“Yes. I think so. Really, it’s a simple potion, minus the blood of course,” she said.

“Of course,” Hermione groused as everyone shot her varying looks of irritation.

He shook his head, Hermione always did have a rigid sense of right and wrong, unless it suited her. If he were more of a bastard, Harry would have pointed out that what she’d done to Marrietta Edgecomb was worse than gathering a single drop of blood, but decided against further aggravating her.

“Alright, I’ll apparate back to the hamlet I found earlier and get what we need. Back in two jiffs,” Harry said and popped away.

-0-

They were in a country called Westeros, in an area referred to as the New Gift. It was anyone’s guess why it was called that. There was nothing fantastic about the place, aside from the ancient trees. At the place that Harry now knew to be Last Hearth, he’d gotten the blood that taught them all Westerosi Common. 

Once they’d all become proficient in the new language, it had only been a matter of sending each of them to a different town. This time to gather much-needed information.

The results were, unsettling. This world was feudal and backward. Worse, it’d been stuck this way for thousands of years. Harry would have thought that in some of that time, there would have been some kind of innovation, but if anything, these people were stuck in their own dark ages. The local belief system didn’t help. While the lords and ladies were taught basics, the only truly learned were the religious acolytes and the Maesters of the Citadel. 

Once Hermione had found out that the Citadel only taught men, she’d volunteered to head to Old Town and ransack the place. On her last mirror call, she’d admitted that it would take another week at least, to copy all the scrolls and tomes. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she’d muttered that Andy would need to brew a few more batches of the language potions because a lot of the material was in other languages. It was a huge turnaround from her earlier stance. But not all that surprising, at least to Harry. Now that potion suited her needs.

“Well we can’t go by Potter,” Andromeda said.

They’d been having this argument for an hour. Once they’d all realized the sort of society they’d found themselves in, it became apparent that a name like Potter, wouldn’t do.

“Yes, you said,” Harry huffed.

“I told you, Harry, everyone would think we were actual Potters. And, need I remind you what life is like for the common man here?” Andy ranted.

“I know. I said that I didn’t care,” he huffed.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I don’t know why we can’t use Weasley.”

“Uh, because that translates to Rodent in Westorosi,” the you-giant-tit was implied but thankfully unspoken when Neville replied.

Luna started laughing and Harry shot her a look. The last thing they needed was for Ron to go on another one of his tears. Honestly, his moods were reminiscent of fourth year.

“Likewise, Longbottom and Lovegood are out,” Andy said.

This time it was Harry that could contain himself. Thankfully neither Neville nor Luna seemed to mind. The dotty woman even replied somewhat wistfully, “Well I do love good,” and winked at him.

Before she looked like a female version of him, that might have been endearing, now it was just. . . No.

“Alright, go big or go home, I say we use Gryffindor,” Harry said with a smirk to rival any Slytherin.

Andy rolled her eyes, but Ron and Neville were both in favor, so she was outvoted.

“Right then, that just leaves, where to live,” Harry pondered and glanced at each of them, “Do we take over some abandoned estate and try to be minor nobility or merchants. Go above the wall and live with the heathens. Ideas?”

Ron huffed out a breath, shivering dramatically, “No offense, but I’m for the south.”

“The further south we go, the more we’ll have to deal with these feudal lords,” Andy hedged with a frown, “Women have no rights here. We’ll need the safety of being landed, minor nobility. At the very least.”

“Hate to point out the obvious, Andy, but we could just put a Fidelius over some abandoned castle and these, irritating lords of yours, couldn’t even see our home,” Neville threw in his two cents. 

“How would we make that work? I for one have no intention of hiding for the next several decades. Are we to have no relationships?” Andy countered.

Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable with that statement, after all, he was technically still married to a woman that looked like his identical twin. Perhaps it’d been a blessing that the two had never had children. It would make their separation a tad easier. 

His own relationship with Ginny had imploded when he’d shared his secret. She hadn’t been able to handle his agelessness. Though she’d been kind enough to keep it to herself, it had still stung. Harry hadn’t tried to date since then, but Andy did have a point. One day, he’d want to marry and have children.

Of their little group of survivors, only Luna had married and had children. Both her husband Rolf and their twin boys had been killed in the London bombing. She was a remarkably resilient woman, though there were times, Harry thought he saw the deep grief he knew she must still feel. 

Teddy hadn’t been the same since Bill, Fleur and Victoire had died. Even now the teen’s hair was a sedate mousy brown. 

-0-  
They were all itching to get a move on by the time Hermione finally made her way back to them. The sheer amount of tomes she’d brought with her was mind-blowing. That this world had such a library but hid it away, was insulting to more than just Hermione. 

Who knew how many advancements had been ignored, just because they didn’t fall into the world view of these few men. Hermione said they’d even had a cure for a plague called Gray Scale, that was notorious for killing anyone that contracted it. But that for some reason, the tomes about it had been hidden away. Even today, she said, thousands of people were affected by the plague each year.

“So, Hermione, did you hear what our new last name is?” Ron asked playfully.

After listening to him explain what Harry had decided, she shook her head and shoved her hand into her trunk, “Accio patents of nobility.”

“The Citadel doesn’t just hoard books,” she said with a smirk, “The crown allows them to be the record keepers. So, every birth and marriage is recorded there in the basement level. I took the time to rifle through those until I found a failing minor house. House Leygood,” she paused to quirk a brow at Luna, “Is down to one old man with no heirs. So, I added birth records for all of us. Sadly, our mother of house Velaryon is also deceased. There’s no direct living family on the Leygood side to deny us and according to the Citadel, the small holdfast is ours.”

“Huh,” Harry grunted, surprised at her initiative, “That works. Where is this holdfast?” He asked.

“The northeastern region of the Reach,” she said primly, with a shrug adding, “I used Legilimacy on several of the Maesters, so that we could apparate to all the places they’d traveled to.”

Andy snorted, “And you gave me a hard time about a drop of blood!”

Hermione shot the woman a sheepish look and said, “I’m sorry Andy. I was wrong.”

Harry’s eyes were wide. Hermione rarely admitted to being wrong. 

“Well, I’m glad you solved our legitimacy issues,” Andy offered gracefully.

Hermione cleared her throat and said, “There’s a reason I was willing to root through their twisted, evil little minds,” she sneered, “Something you all need to be aware of.”

It actually worried Harry a touch, that she thought that, it must be bad, he thought.

“The Maester’s don’t just hoard knowledge. Their entire organization was funded and originated by the Andal’s. That’s the ethnic group that conquered Westeros several thousand years ago.” She gave a shake of her head as though to clear it, trying her best not to fall into over information mode.

“Anyway, before they came here, everyone was magical. But these Andals had the sheer numbers to decimate the populous and they did, at least everything below the Neck. That’s known history, what isn’t known? They killed off all the males to a babe, in every house that opposed them and gave their females away to be bred by their soldiers. Took their histories from them and then refused to educate their children!” She snarled and held up a hand as her breath evened out.

“Then, Then they used their influence to place a Maester in every single holding, for advisory purposes. A man whose job it is, to write and send letters for the nobility. To advise them on difficult decisions, to make sure their books are copied so as to keep history, to educate their young and help broker marriages,” she steamed.

A hand covered her mouth as a sob escaped her, “The worst thing, the very worst,” her eyes met his, pleading him to help, “The Maesters are all trained with poisons, some outright kill the target, others cause madness, further still, infertility and miscarriage.”

The others were all equally horrified, but Hermione wasn’t quite done.

“They’re ordered to spy on their charges keeping detailed accounts of letters, conversations and general impressions. Sometimes one of them is ordered to kill someone that is politically opposed, but mostly it’s selective eugenics. The Andals, meaning the Citadel and the order of the Maesters and the Clergy, are all opposed to magic and anything related to it, up to and including the royal family. 

‘They are the reason why this continent is almost entirely muggle. They poisoned the last of the Targaryens’ dragons and have been feeding the royal family various poisons to constrain their fertility and promote instability and madness, for hundreds of years,” she finished at a whisper. 

“Holy Merlin, tell me this new holdfast you stole for us doesn’t come with one of those slimy snakes,” Ron choked out.

“If it does, he won’t live long enough to be a problem,” Harry promised and glanced back at Hermione, “I assume your stole proof?”

“Yes!” She snarled.

“Good. For now, just gather it together in such a way that it could be presented to the King say? Perhaps one day down the road we’ll hand it over,” Harry nodded and drew her in for a hug, “We’ll make them pay for the wholesale slaughter of children, Hermione, that’s a promise.”

She nodded against his shoulder, “Good.”

-0-

Later the next day, plans were being discussed and rearranged based on new information.

Andy was insistent that all the men learn to fight with a sword.

Before Harry could argue the point, Hermione nodded and said, “Yes, House Leygood is beholden to House Tyrell of High Garden. Any time there’s a dispute, House Leygood will be expected to send men.”

“Terrific,” Ron grumbled.

“Look, we’ll figure it out,” Harry said, “Right now, let’s just go find this holdfast and get started on settling in.”

-0-

Leygood Hall was a single tower with a ten foot stone wall around it. At their best estimate Lord Leygood was responsible for just over fifty acres, but any peasants that had worked the land were long gone. They could see where the fields were tilled at one point, but now everything was fallow. There were saplings and brush growing up between the rows because no one had bothered.

“Well, at least we won’t have to obliviate anyone,” Hermione said nervously.

-0-

Hermione hijacked their manpower with a color-coded work plan that was reminiscent of their fifth year OWL studies. Primly stopping in front of each of them, she handed over a folder.

“Harry, there are two abandoned castles in the Westerlands called Castamere and Tarbeck Hall. Lord Lannister killed the families to a man and left them in a ruined state to make a statement. We need stone.”

“Er, maybe now would be a good time to admit that I brought the remaining Hogwarts house elves with me?” Harry questioned warily.

The glare from Hermione was overshadowed by several shouts of joy. 

“They were all hiding in the dungeons so, I asked them if they wanted to come and they said yes. But,” and here he paused, “Because of what Luna had implied about the survivability of the trip. . . I bonded them all to me.”

As Hermione worked herself up into a froth, Andy walked over and got in her face, “Enough! Stop being such a hypocrite! Did you want them all to die? Because they would have. Radiation kills elves just as easy as humans!”

Hermione’s eyes watered as she dropped her gaze to the ground, “No. I would rather them be bound to Harry, than for them to have died,” she admitted fully chastised.

Harry shook his head, “Anyway, they survived the trip just fine, guys!” He yelled and thirty or so elves popped into the clearing.

“So few,” Andy murmured.

“Yea, two hundred of them had fled to the forest, but those left in the castle hadn’t heard from them since. So these guys were scared to leave,” Harry said.

“Well, you guys up to help me get some stone? We’re going to build a new castle,” Harry asked the elves.

By the shouts of joy and overall cheer, it was clear the elves were more than happy to help. 

-0-

As soon as Harry had left the clearing, Hermione asked Neville, “Have you had a chance to go through the seeds and plants Harry collected?”

“Yeah,” he answered, taking the folder from her hand.

“There’s a huge open air market, just outside of High Garden, if you want to pop over and buy anything he missed. Also, I was hoping you could help plan the grounds. We’ll need greenhouses an orchard, enough tilled land set aside for grains. . . I’m sure you know all this better than me, but it would be better to have a plan.”

Luna ignored Hermione’s hand and skipped away, “I’ll get animals!”

Hermione chuckled as she turned to Ron, “Can you think of anything your family had set up, that we haven’t covered?”

Ron almost seemed surprised to be asked, “Mum used enchanted and charmed items, like a churn, that ya know. . . Churned itself. There were a hundred little things like that,” he offered.

“Keep it in mind, maybe make a list, yeah?” She asked and turned to Andy.

“You’re our resident aristocrat. You mentioned the men learning to fight. We need to know more about the local nobility, hell, even how to dress. You also. . . You also understand people much better than I do. I was thinking it might be best for you and Teddy to go spy on one of the noble families?”

Andy tilted her head and assessed Hermione for a tense moment, before giving her a nod, “Certainly, Theodore, let’s go shadow the Tyrell’s.”

-0-

“My Lord.”

Tywin scowled at the interruption, “What.”

“Something strange has happened . . .”

Tywin’s nostrils flared at the weak-willed idiot, “Get on with it.”

“It’s, Tarbeck Hall and Castamere, they. . . Uh, that is to say, the castles vanished,” the man stammered.

“What!” Tywin hissed, “What do you mean, they vanished!” 

“T-the stones are gone. Even the foundations. They’re just. . . Gone.”

Tywin stood abruptly and shoved the dagger from his belt into the man’s throat. He’d find someone with better answers.

“Come.” He growled at the attending servants, “Clean this mess up!”

He had made it very clear that no one was to touch either estate. He’d not even allowed anyone in to bury the dead. How? How could someone have scavenged the stone without being seen? By the Gods, such a project would have taken several moons. Either his underlings were truly inept, or they had hidden the theft. Someone, or most like, several someones’ would pay.

-0-

Neville wasn’t all that impressed with the market, but he had followed a particularly irritating man wearing full plate, back to his farm. Turned out the guy lived in a large apple orchard. Well, he could work with this. A charm here and there and he had several dozen full-grown fruit trees, all shrunken down in his bag. 

Oh, a chicken coop. he wondered if Luna had found any of them yet? Best not skip it, their luck, Luna would bring back toucan’s but forget chickens. He loved her to bits, but she could be so. . . Different.

Once the last of the chickens had been stashed away, Neville scowled back at the tiny keep and made a rude gesture. 

-0-

“Makes all the guardsies sleep,” noodles gave his companion a shove, “Noodles will sees to master Harry.”

The two elves both nodded at each other and Noodles set off to find the great wizard Harry Potter. 

“Noodles has all the cows!”

Harry smiled down at his favorite accomplice. Once he’d figured out what Tywin Lannister had done to the two families in those castles, he’d decided to fleece the lord of the rock for as much as they could carry away, “Good job! Did any of you notice anything else worth taking?”

Noodles hummed and adjusted the saucepan on his head, “Mm. Noodles did see this big barn that has lots and lots of stuffs stacked in it.”

“You are the best elf,” Harry said with all honesty. He loved these quirky little guys, “Do you think that you and the others can empty it into this trunk,” he held out the trunk as Noodles cried about how nice Harry was.

“When you get done, meet me back at the mines,” he said with a hard edge to his voice. 

“Noodles will, Harry Potter sir!”

-0-

There were no Nargles in this world, how strange, maybe the Nargles had been targeted by the Maesters as well, she thought. Her hand darted into the hive and pulled out a small piece of honeycomb. The bees tickled her face as they settled into a beard. Lovely little things. So charming.

Rolph would have liked it here if only to have a brand new world to explore. She smiled sadly and thought fondly of their time together. It was ok though, he was with the boys. They needed him more now, she was sure of it.

“That tickles,” she teased and took a few steps away from them, “It’s ok, you all can follow me home later. Neville will have plenty of tasty treats ready soon.”

Well, that was done. Now, where did these people keep their owls? She was sure that Harry would love to have a few around.

-0-

His stomach growled again. Picking up the quill he jotted down the charms to make several different kinds of cheese. 

Oh, bacon. He should include that too. They’d need the spices that went in the rub. Those were important. And a smoker. Ron wondered if Hermione had thought about Fire whiskey. Mum had never made it, but George had figured it out a long time ago. In his opinion George’s was better than what was sold in the pub, yeah he’d add that too.

His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as he wrote down the charm his mum had used to enlarge beets. Nasty things, beets. But they made the best sugar.

“And hideous maroon dye,” Ron chuckled and wondered if Hermione had packed their old Christmas sweaters. 

-0-

In the end, they’d had to get additional stone from a nearby quarry, because the elves, well they had been completely on board with rebuilding their home. It was so interesting for Harry to see house-elf magic working on that level. While it might be true that house elves would never make a first-rate construction team, they were all able to remember Hogwarts in great detail. 

Even with magic, it had taken all of them nearly six months to build the castle. Thankfully the skirt wall that went around the perimeter was much quicker. Once the wall was up, they all turned their attention to the grounds. 

Neville had designed everything down to the last shrub. There were three greenhouses, each with the Scamander enlargement charms on them. Something that Luna had learned from her father in law their first Christmas together. She’d put the same charms on the barn so that rather than stalls, it was individual habitats. Fitting, since between him and Neville, they’d stolen an entire herd of cattle, a few dozen horses, a metric ton of chickens, more goats than they could shake a stick at and a multitude of sheep.

Enchanted seed drills were already tilling the grain fields that had been marked off and the orchards were already flowering because Neville had stolen fully grown trees. Who even knew that was possible? Things were really coming together on the home front. Of course, they’d need to present themselves and swear fealty to their liege lord soon as it had been officially reported that their father had died.

Harry was sure they would stick him with the responsibility. There was no way that Ron could pull it off, and Neville was on a trip to Essos with Hermione. Not that any of them were likely to be well received. None of them knew how to use a sword and this was the kingdom that invented chivalry and knighthood and Maesters, he added mentally with a sneer. 

-0-

Hermione had finally wrapped her mind around doing all the things that were necessary. Like making a stop at the Driftmark on their way to Braavos, so that she could memory charm their fake mother’s family into remembering them. She’d not realized how important the Velaryons were to the crown when she’d picked Lionel Leygood and Jaelyn Velaryon as their parents. 

Now that she knew, well this was a necessary evil. It wouldn’t do for their family to be told about them by someone else. 

“They all look like Malfoy’s. Weird, we have the same color of eyes,” Neville whispered to her as they made their way to the audience chamber. 

“Well all the better to prove our legitimacy,” she shrugged.

Neville grunted, “’spose so, course if you wanted, I could make myself look just like this guy,” he motioned to Lord Velaryon.

“Not an exact copy, but maybe you should make your hair that same white blond. We’ll mirror Harry and Luna later and tell them to do the same before they meet anyone in an official capacity. Might make things easier for Harry when he goes to High Garden,” she mused as Neville shifted his hair color.

“You look quite striking like that. It’s no wonder that the Targaryens stayed in power even though most of them were crazy,” Hermione whispered and couldn’t help but laugh when Neville blushed.

“You could use a glamour to change your hair and eyes,” he said.

Hermione shook her head, “Half of us take after Lionel.” 

“He’s alone, let’s go,” Neville said quietly as they threw down a few wards that would keep anyone else from coming into the room.

-0-

Later that evening as they slipped back onto the boat, Neville said, “Did you really have to make both of our parents seem so horrible?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Lionel Leygood drank himself to death. As far as Jaelyn is concerned, her brother Lucerys caught her in the act with Prince Daeron and the Prince’s companion Ser Jeremy. Lucerys gave her to Lionel as a punishment for embarrassing the family.”

“Oh, well,” Neville stammered, “No one’s going to think that Harry’s illegitimate are they?”

Hermione grimaced, “Probably not, but only because you and Luna both look just like him.”

“Shit, from what I’ve been hearing, being a bastard Targaryen is a bad, bad thing here,” he grumbled. 

“Indeed. We’ll keep an ear on the situation. When I was in Lucerys mind after the memories were planted. . . He was already considering possible wives for Harry.”

Neville choked, “Harry isn’t going to like that, at all.”

“I know. Thankfully with Lionel dead, the only person that can make one of us marry is the king,” she breathed in relief, “King Aegon hasn’t even been able to make his own children marry. Every single one of them have ignored their betrothals, so I doubt he’ll ever look to our family.”

-0-

The representative from the Iron Bank had been quite intrigued with a form of coin they’d never seen before. Thankfully, though the man didn’t appear to have believed Neville, about their Galleons origins, he’d been all too happy to exchange the mess into Golden Dragons, Silver Stags and pence. Hermione suspected their exchange rate had been heavily fleeced, but their family had brought an obscene amount of gold with them to this world, so it was a moot point.

Of course, there was also that huge vault of gold ore, that Harry had stolen from the Lannisters. She still wasn’t sure what to think about that. This world was bad for her morality. 

The only downside to the trip had been to find out that Lionel Leygood had owed the bank money. 10,000 golden Dragons to be exact. Paying was pocket change though, so neither of them argued. Deciding to keep above board, at least partially, they deposited a million dragons into the Leygood account and put the rest into trunks for the trip home.

To keep up the ruse, they’d had to charter a ship and have the bank employee’s carry the trunks to the shipyard. It was all too obvious what was in them, and with the sheer number involved, Hermione and Neville both expected to be attacked once the ship had left the harbor.

“I’m glad we hit the marketplace before the bank. We’ve already got three tails, and that’s just what I’ve noticed,” Neville grumbled.

“I saw. One of them is a child!” Hermione hissed and shot a dark glare at a youngish waif-like girl, that seemed to be everywhere they went. The girl’s face blanked when Hermione met her eyes in challenge. It was eerily similar to staring down a cornered animal.

As they walked up the gangplank behind the last trunk, Neville flicked the wand hidden in his sleeve and placed an intent ward behind them. It would buy them enough time to finish this precarious exchange.

Hermione stayed in the hull with the trunks and motioned to him, “Go obliviate the captain and crew. Make sure to make them all think that this was a ruse and that we left on a different ship.”

Neville gave a terse nod and headed out. It took her a few minutes to get all of the trunks shrunk and to create the Portkey that would take them home.

Above her, Hermione heard a grunt as something fell onto the deck. Neville came back before she needed to investigate.

“The captain was planning to kill us at sea,” he offered in greeting.

“Lovely. The people in this world are just so predictable.” Hermione said with a sneer and held out the length of rope.

“Portus.”

-0-  
256 ish - AC

Harry helped Hermione unload the many trunks of Golden Dragons into the magical vault they’d created in the dungeon of their new castle. He could only whistle in appreciation at the mountainous pile once the job was done.

“So, how much did we end up with?” He asked.

“Well, I suspect we were somewhat cheated,” she rolled her eyes, “But, there’s a million in our account that we left at the bank. And the balance,” she motioned to the oversized hall full of gold, “Was just over ten million.”

Harry shrugged, “Better than having to melt the Galleons down into bullion, or having to find someone to process stolen ore. Besides, I think you’re overlooking how much that is, in this world. It’s enough that we don’t really have to worry about anything, for a very long time.”

Hermione nodded, “True. And there are several things that we could easily make, that are difficult for others in this time period. That should keep us flush.”

Harry quirked a brow and gave her a lopsided grin, “Is there a list of things, perhaps. . . Color-coded,” he joked and dodged away from the hand that tried to smack the back of his head.

“Oh,” Hermione gasped and glanced at him wearily, “Before I forget, I should probably tell you about our side trip. . .”

Harry listened as she explained all that had happened on the Driftmark, when they’d planted false memories of their family into the minds of the Velaryon’s.

His eye twitched as Harry sighed, “I don’t think it’ll be an issue to keep my hair platinum. I’ve been practicing shifting and holding the changes without the pendant Andy gave me,” he admitted reluctantly, not really wanting to look like some sort of Malfoy, but needs must and all that.

As for the other thing, “There’s no way that I’ll agree to marry.”

Hermione glanced away and refused to meet his eye.

“What is it?” He asked in clear irritation.

“Er, well. . . It’s just that, Lucerys was considering approaching his brother Aeron about a match between you and his niece.”

“So. It isn’t as though he can make me accept,” Harry grumbled.

“Well, it’s just that. . . See, his brother Aeron is married to the king’s sister, Daella. So, the girl, Dyanna, is the king’s niece,” she said with a grimace.

Harry blinked at her owlishly before stomping away, not caring that it was a bit petulant. His mind whirled at the idea. If this Lucerys offered the king’s niece and Harry refused, then, what? Would the king be offended? 

“Shit,” he cursed and said a silent prayer to the Gods that Lucerys would let go of the idea. Why the hell couldn’t Hermione have placed a compulsion on uncle Lucifer while she was there?

-0-

Neville looked from the fields of ready to harvest grain and back down at Pippy and Jax. The two elves had been in charge of the many fields they’d planted, just a month ago. 

“I had no idea elves could speed up a harvest,” Neville murmured in awe.

“Oh, yes. Elvsies be good at growing things!” Pippy cheered and then gave the wizard a speculative glance, “How is you thinking the students at Hoggywarts being fed?”

“Er, I hadn’t. I just assumed the school bought food from a grocer,” he admitted.

The two elves cringed, Jax even pulled on his ears, “Muggle food is good for muggles. Magic grown is best for little witches and wizards.”

“Can’t argue that I suppose,” Neville smiled down at them, “So, how do we harvest all this?”

The elves both gave him a shark-like grin before snapping their fingers.

-0-

“I haven’t seen Ron in over a week,” Harry said as he and Hermione tucked into an early dinner.

She chuckled, “He’s created a brewery at the back of the property. Has a little helper and everything. Bobo, I think,” her brow furrowed as she tried to remember the elf's name.

Harry perked up at the news, “What’s he making?”

She shook her head and replied, “Fire whiskey, though he’s calling it Dragon’s Breath so it’ll sell better. Right now the two of them are working out how to make champagne and Vodka. The elf was testing every single batch alongside Ron. The poor little thing was so drunk he fell off the stool,” she snorted but did add, “The champagne was delicious.”

“Where’s mine?” he pouted at her.

“You can go down there and get it yourself. He wanted to talk to you about it anyway. Apparently, casks are only good for regular wine and whiskey. He needs glass bottles but glass is so rare here that it’s too expensive to buy,” she added looking thoughtfully at the glass she was using.

Following her stare, he nodded, “Yeah. Andy showed me the trick. The hardest part was getting enough sand to make an entire batch of the stuff. Apparently, the Black family made its fortune back in the day, by making glass for muggles. Can you believe that?” He scoffed.

“And the transfiguration is permanent?” Hermione asked, holding the glass of water up to the light.

“Well, yeah. It’s not transfigured. You just use magical fire to heat the sand,” He shrugged, “Easy really.”

She hummed as figurative dollar signs formed in her eyes, “We could sell some glassware and some very expensive alcohol, but most of it will need to be in casks or no one will be able to afford it.”

“Not all the elves have found their niche yet. I’ll ask Noodles if he knows of one up to the task. If not, we can hire a glass blower and I‘ll just supply them with the glass.”

Hermione smiled, delighted that one plan was coming together, but frowned in thought, “Where did you get the sand?” She asked it wasn’t as if there was any nearby.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat, “I might have popped down to Dorne and stolen a bunch,” he admitted sheepishly.

She clucked her tongue, “Well, that was probably for the best. It would have been difficult to hide how it was being stored otherwise.”

He gave her a grateful smile. It wasn’t like the Dornish had a shortage of the stuff.

-0-

Andy’s trip had been a little too successful. It turned out that Theodore had been quite smitten with the youngest Tyrell chit. Even managed to impress her enough that the middle brother, took Teddy as a squire. She’d never been away from him, other than for Hogwarts and somehow this just felt so different.

Still, she couldn’t argue that her grandson would improve their fledgling families standing with their overlords. 

Teddy had been deeply amused to be running around with platinum hair and purple eyes. She was thankful that they’d gotten the mirror call in time, as neither had made contact at that point. It made sense, she supposed, for half of them to look like their supposed mother. 

Gods above, she was physically a teenager again. Cissy would’ve laughed herself silly over this. On one hand, it was nice not to have the aches and pains anymore, on the other, well it was galling to pretend to be her grandsons’ older sister.

Shaking off her melancholy, Andy continued her perusal of the cloth on offer at the marketplace. She’d been surprised by the variety. There was even several types of myrish lace and silks from somewhere called Yi-Ti. Thankfully she’d been able to melt down some of her Galleons and transfigure them into Golden Dragons. 

“I’ll take a ream of these three and one of each of those,” Andy pointed to several fabrics she liked.

The merchant looked at her wide-eyed, “That’d be ten dragons milady!”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll also take five of this nice wool blend in black, grey and white. Do you carry linen?” She asked only then noticing the shocked expression on the girl’s face.

The biggest trick to nearly buying the woman out of cloth was packing it into her bottomless bag without notice. But, Andromeda had never been one to back down from a challenge. 

“Confundus, I already sent our servants away with the purchases dear.”

The girl blinked several times, nodding her head in a daze, “We get new lace and silk every fortnight,” she murmured.

“Thanks ever so, that is good to know!” Andy offered with real cheer, “Tell me, do you know anyone with ribbons or beads?” She asked the disoriented merchant.

“Fripperies and such are sold by old Edwyna two stalls down.”

Andromeda was unsurprised that Highgarden had such a need, even with the quality of life for peasants, it made sense. These people had a tourney every other week and the ladies just had to have new dresses for each one. 

Just last evening, there’d been a ten-course feast in Highgarden’s Great Hall, because their youngest son had been taken as a squire. . . By a cousin. Truly they were an impressive bunch. The sheer waste involved was mind-boggling when faced with the overall drudgery for the common folk. 

She was glad that most of their goods would be grown and made, safely behind wards that medieval muggles couldn’t see through. Fewer taxes to pad their fat arses. 

“Oh, are those crystal beads? I simply must have them,” she cooed adding the entire container to her growing pile, much to Old Edwyna’s growing ire.

-0-

“What’s this?” Hermione held up the book as she drug her eyes away from the madness that was Andy, having a fit of inspiration.

Since coming back from Highgarden, the woman had been holed up in her workshop. The walls on one side were lined with various reams of cloth and shelves of threads, beads, lace, and ribbons. Three dress forms with works in progress, pinned together awaiting the final sewing charms. Along the interior wall, were dozens of examples of current fashion. Hermione cringed, knowing, she too, would be expected to wear this type of finery. 

“It’s the Seven Pointed Star, the Bible for these people and their seven gods. The Seven that were one,” she added in obvious mockery.

“Okay,” Hermione cracked the illuminated manuscript open, briefly enjoying the smell of aging parchment and hand made inks.

“Unfortunately, the high born women of this society, are taught strictly by this book, with the aid of their version of a nun. This Septa, makes sure the girls are good at comportment, that they’re gently bred and prepared to bear as many sons as possible. They’re not allowed to do much else, less embroidery, song, dance and sometimes Hawking, but only if their fathers allow it.”

Hermione’s face was thunderous by the time Andy had stopped speaking. She chucked the book onto the nearby table and sniffed, tilting her chin up.

“I agree with that sentiment Hermione, but we’ll all need to know this information enough to blend in,” Andy offered her an apologetic look as she motioned to the book, “If it makes you feel any better, know that I am pants at copying books.”

Hermione’s eyebrows climbed into her hairline, “You stole someone’s illuminated bible.”

“Stole is such a harsh word. There are other words that could fit the situation as well, like borrowed without permission, certainly, but still borrowed. There’s really no need to keep that thing.”

“Oh, while I have you here, let’s get your measurements. You’ll need an entire wardrobe. Have you ever worn a corset before?”

Hermione snorted, “No. And I don’t intend to. I won’t be running around rubbing elbows with these people. I’ve got my tower and thousands of books. You’ll be lucky to see me for meals.”

Andy smirked, “Sometimes, these nobles will come here. For the feasts, we’ll be forced to hold. Speaking of that, the Citadel brought fresh ravens and, something came from the Driftmark earlier.”

Hermione’s face purpled with the knowledge that someone from the Citadel had darkened their doorstep. Then she paled. . . The Driftmark, “I need to go. . .”

“Wait!” Andy called out.

Hermione turned in the doorway.

“I couldn’t find the exact same beads, but I tried,” Andy offered and held out a new beaded bag, “I know how much the old one meant to you.”

“Thank you, Andromeda, I love it,” Hermione grabbed Andy and crushed her into a tight hug.

-0-

“No. Absolutely not,” Harry slapped another card onto the table and chuckled as it exploded all over Noodles, “I win again!” He crowed at the grinning elf.

“Noodles thinks that the great wizard Harry Potter maybe cheats at sploading snaps!”

Harry held his hands over his chest and proclaimed, “I would never, never ever,” shaking his head in denial.

“Harry, this is serious,” Hermione tapped her foot from her place behind him, “You have to go,” she insisted.

“Noodles, tell miss Hermione, that I can’t go because we’re going to be making cheese next week,” Harry said.

“Miss Hermy, The Great Wizard, Harry Potter, sir, can’t be going. We is making cheese next week!” Noodles nodded seriously, nearly dislodging the saucepan that the elf refused to take off his head.

All the previous Hogwarts elves had taken to wearing a variety of clothes and accessories. Case in point, see above. Noodles wore pans on his head. Bobo was fond of an old Slytherin tie he’d scrounged up somewhere, paired with massive tinted sunglasses, that were probably necessary since Bobo was normally drunk. 

“You’re the head of the family. One or more of us can go with you, but you have to go,” she insisted.

“No. Cheese, Hermione,” he muttered, pulling out a fresh deck of Snap, “Go again?” Harry asked noodles.

“Oh yes! Noodles is going to win this time!” The elf cheered.

“Harry James Potter! You have to go swear fealty to the King. It’s unfortunate that Lucerys wants you to travel with him, but you’re going!” She continued shrilly.

“It’s actually Lord Harold James Leygood now, as you very well know,” he said in the snobbiest voice he could muster.

One glance up at her face had Harry quelling, “Er. . . Do I have to go?”

“Yes.” She said with a glint in her eyes that could freeze prey.

He swallowed nervously, “I’m not marrying Lucifer’s niece.”

“Lucerys, and I fully expect you to say no, but don’t make a scene. You’ll be in the capital, swearing fealty to her uncle!”

“I got it. Be nice to the little pointy faced Malfoy!” Harry groused and shot a longing glance at the elf, “Maybe we could glamour Noodles and he could come too?” 

“No.” She answered immediately, “No, puppy dog eyes won’t work, even with your new pretty face!”

“I am not pretty,” Harry hissed.

She chortled, “You’re prettier than I am.”

Harry pouted, “Fine. I’ll go, but only if you come with me,” he smirked, “I’m sure Andy has plenty of corsets and dresses ready for you.”

Her mouth dropped open as her cheeks colored.

“If I have to go, you do too,” he insisted.

Hermione sighed and hung her head, “Fine, that’s only fair. Even if I could be spending time getting the library together,” she looked up hopeful at that statement.

“Not gonna work. I could be making cheese with Noodles, equally important and by my standard, more fun,” he stuck his tongue out at her. 

“I’ll also warn you, that if you do anything that ends up with my engagement, I’ll hint to old Lucifer that you’re in need of a husband,” he warned with a sneer. He meant it too. If he got thrown under the bus on this trip, then Hermione was getting saddled with some pretty knight. She and Ron had officially recognized that they were divorced, thank Merlin. He didn’t even want to think of what it would have been like, should they have carried on a relationship as biological twins. So, that made her fair game as well.

-0-

To keep up appearances, their party had to travel by horse and carriage down the Rose Road. Harry had enchanted the wheelhouse and driver’s seat to within an inch of its life. Even still, people within a ten-mile radius were sure to hear him cursing.

“They call this a road, Hermione! It’s like two muddy ruts through some thistles. And yes, they’re thistles. The prickly little shits got me when I stopped to enchant the wheels!”

He heard her chortle from inside the wheelhouse and turned around in the seat, screaming at the small window behind him, “Oi, it isn’t funny. No amount of cushioning charms are going to bring feeling back to my balls.”

“Harry!” She tried to be stern but ended up laughing so hard that tears fell down her cheeks, “That’s enough. . . About your balls,” she added as another gale of laughter erupted from her.

“I’m all about equal opportunity Hermione, maybe you should drive the next several hours,” he replied.

“Not to mention, where are the damn signs. How does anyone know where they’re going? Eh? Just turn right by the skeletons all piled by the knobbly pine, no sonny, that’s a knobbly fir,” he enacted in a horrible rendition of old man voice.

Another laugh.

He frowned. Seriously, they’d been on the road for ten days and supposedly, they would reach the promised land of stink and shit, today. But so far, Harry saw no proof of that claim. 

Then as if by miracle, there was a whiff of something foul carried on the wind. He’d not been joking about the many skeletons they’d seen along the way, so it could be a body.

“There it is!” Hermione exclaimed, hanging half out of the window as she pointed into the distance. 

“Yay. We can already smell it,” he falsely cheered.

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose and gagged, quickly ducking back into the carriage and closing the shutters. 

Harry sniffed and flicked his wand at his head, “Use a bubblehead charm and get your arse out here!”

The Blackwater rush was aptly named. Harry wasn’t even sure it qualified as water, more a tunnel of sewage. Unfortunately, the commoners hadn’t gotten that memo and he could see many of them, bathing and washing their clothes in it. All upstream from the city. So, plague’s were a thing.

“We packed our own food, yeah?” Harry yelled back at her as he watching someone skinning a fish they’d caught in the shit colored water.

“Of course,” Hermione snipped as she squeezed herself through the window and plopped onto the bench next to him, “Wow, it really does bounce your whole body,” she said.

Harry gave her a droll look and then pointed out what he’d noticed about the river. Her face screwed up in disgust as she said, “Perhaps, we could pay our families taxes for the entire generation by fixing the cities water and sewage problems.”

“Tempting, but I’m all out of hazmat suits,” He replied. 

She shook her head, “We could draw up the plans for Roman aqueducts, latrines and water towers.”

A group of the people got a little too close to the carriage and Hermione added, “And bathhouses. Definitely those.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, even though I personally have no plans to crawl around in a hundred years of sewage, but none of us have any reason to know those things,” Harry said and cursed as he pulled back on the reigns to slow the horses. Two children playing alongside the road weren’t paying attention and one fell in front of them.

“That’s not exactly true. I might have planted a paperwork trail for an apprenticeship in Essos for several of us,” she admitted sheepishly as Harry climbed down the side of the carriage.

The little boy wore clothes that were made more of mud than fabric. He was holding his ankle in distress, twin clean tracks trailed down the boy's dirt covered face.

“You alright lad?” Harry asked, stooping down to the kid’s level. 

The boy’s eyes were shifty, Harry noticed, half a second before four rough-looking men surround him.

“This’ns got th’dragon looks ‘bout ‘im,” one sneered with a mouthful of rotten teeth.

Harry stood and brushed off his knees dramatically before giving the four a sharp look, “If you leave now, I won’t kill you,” he said.

The men all laughed, while the vilest of the bunch, grabbed himself and thrust his hips at Hermione, “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ tha’ one in,” he leered.

Harry turned to Hermione as though to say, is this alright? Hermione’s narrow-eyed gaze settled on him and she gave a single nod. Well, that was just the way this world worked, wasn’t it? Holding his arm out and down, Harry summoned the sword of Gryffindor and took a wide swipe. The metal was more than a poisoned blade. It was enchanted to be ever sharp and strong enough to cut through steel and give triumph to the worthy. The first man was nearly cut in two, while the blade stuck in the second with a sick sucking sound. 

Using his foot, Harry kicked at the man and pulled the sword out, using the momentum to cleave into the third. The fourth man pissed himself and ran into the trees. As Harry was cleaning the gore from the blade, the boy on the ground began to blubber, “You wasn’t armed. Tha’s why Burn and Jeff picked ya.”

“A fine lesson to learn then. Things aren’t always what they seem. If you continue doing this, one day, you’ll die too,” Harry added as he climbed back up the side of the carriage and sat on the bench.

“I was jus’ hungry,” the boy muttered with wet angry eyes.

Hermione summoned her new beaded bag and stuck her hand inside, pulling out a loaf of bread. She tossed it to the boy, who’s troubles seemed to melt away with the addition of food.

Neither said a word as they continued on to the gate, but Hermione did burn through most of their food, tossing it to the wretched masses. Once the guards had steered them in the right direction, Harry turned to her and said, “I know. We’ll think of something, but those four men,” Harry shook his head.

“I’d kill anyone that looked at you like that,” he said taking comfort from the hand that squeezed his shoulder.

She sniffled and pragmatic as always, said, “I thought you didn’t know how to use a sword?”

“I don’t. The sword has several enchantments. One is called righteous cause. It enables the person who masters it to always strike down the guilty,” he admitted quietly. 

Hermione startled at that, torn between fascination and horrified awe, “I’d never heard of that before. How do you know that?” She asked.

“I might have brought the sorting hat with us,” he admitted and ducked her hand, “Listen, I didn’t say anything because there must have been some sort of obedience charm on the foul-mouthed piece of felt. You should hear the thing cuss, no don’t look at me like that. I’m serious! I had to put it in a trunk!” Harry exclaimed with wide eyes that twinkled in mirth.

“I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth,” she said evenly and primly stepped down from the carriage.

“I know. I’m getting better at lying. It had to happen eventually,” he chirped, then began to look around for the Velaryon standards.

Uncle Lucifer had promised to leave someone at the barns to take them both to the manor the family kept in the city. 

-0-

Hermione, it seemed, had done an amazing job researching Lionel Leygood, and placing their paper trail. What she’d failed at; however, was in collecting anything useful about the Velaryon family. They were screwed, that’s all Harry could think. 

The manor house sat high upon Rhaeynra’s hill, a place of distinction for a family that had been vassals to the Targaryens, since before the doom. Buggering fuck, Harry could have shaken her, when he heard that the family had provided more brides for the Targs, then the Targs and these were people that married their siblings. 

To say that they were favored was an understatement, made all the more clear by finding out one very important title that Lucerys Velaryon held. And that wasn’t Lord Velaryon, no uncle Lucerys was the Master of Ships on the King’s Small Council. 

The second very important thing to know about the man was this, Lucerys had lost his wife to fever and both of his sons to the sea. At near fifty, he’d remarried to a woman more than twenty-five years his junior, only to receive a single daughter. There was a rumor of a bastard, close enough to the family that Lucerys had tried to have him legitimized, but with all the trouble the Blackfyre’s had caused, the king refused. 

Lucerys was a man in want of an heir that had the Velaryon looks. For some reason, these people put more stock in platinum hair and purple eyes, than smarts. While amusing, Harry wasn’t sure he liked how the family had been eye-balling him. Though even he could admit, it was strange. . . How much he looked like these people. It wasn’t just his eye color either, Harry could easily pass as Lucerys’ son.

He didn’t think it would be too much of an issue, or at least he hoped. There were still two male cousins with the name, so there was hope that Lucerys would pick one of them, or better yet, try for another child with his still young wife.

Dinner that first evening was an awkward affair. Lucerys’ wife Selena had asked about Harry and his siblings. More importantly, how old they were and if they were married. 

“Andromeda is the eldest, she’ll be twenty this year. Hermione here just turned ten and nine. I am ten and eight. Neville, ten and seven, Ronald ten and six. Luna is ten and five and Theodore, the youngest, is ten and two,” Harry offered hoping he said the ages right. 

How hard was it to say a number larger than ten? 

He couldn’t tell if the stiff posture on Hermione was from a mistake in his speech or the speculative looks from Selena.

“Are you wed, Lady Hermione?” Selena asked.

Oh, that’s why he thought and stifled a smirk.

“No, not as such,” Hermione replied tersely, “It has never been a desire of mine to marry and father allowed the lack.”

Selena blinked in surprise, “Are any of you wed?”

“Not yet, my lady. As of late, we’ve all been working hard to make the land we inherited succeed.”

Selena smirked, “You say we, but only the eldest male ever inherits. Still, it shows great character, your care of your siblings Lord Harold.”

“Perhaps Theodore could foster at Drifmark?” Lucerys said and took another sip of his Arbor Gold.

“Alas, but Theodore just began to squire for Moryn Tyrell,” Harry lamented, secretly he thought living on the Driftmark would be preferable to being around the Tyrells, but the boy was smitten.

“How unfortunate, you should have contacted us. I’m certain someone here could have trained the boy,” Lucerys offered.

Harry hummed, “Well, if I’m perfectly honest, and I see no reason not to be, Theodore,” Harry paused to roll his eyes, “Thinks himself in love and nearly insisted that he stay in Highgarden.”

Selena laughed into her napkin, but Lucerys didn’t seem all that amused, “Youth,” the man said gruffly, finishing off his fourth cup of wine.

“Wife, if you’ll excuse us, Harold and I have some things to discuss. We’ll be in my Solar,” Lucerys was a man used to being obeyed. 

He didn’t wait for an answer, merely pushed away from the table and started out of the room. Harry shot Hermione a look of irritation and hurried after the man. There was no conversion as they made their way through the stone halls. 

Harry felt a growing sense of dread as the door was shut behind him.

“Have a seat,” Lucerys motioned to one of the chairs before the fireplace, “Would you care for a drink?” He asked.

“I’ll admit to being curious about one of the items you gifted us with.” The man added as he walked to the sidebar.

They’d selected several things that were sure would be impressive, including a cask of whiskey.

“The Dragon’s Breath Whiskey?” Harry asked.

“Indeed,” Lucerys opened the cask and poured a healthy amount into two wooden cups, handing the second to Harry.

Harry gave himself a shake and shot it back, tilting his head back so that the belched fire wouldn’t singe his tunic, “Whew, that gets me every time!”

Lucerys was standing stock still staring in astonishment from the cup to Harry and back again. Unable to curb his curiosity, Lucerys drank a large swallow and gasped as fire shot out of his mouth, “By the gods!”

Harry nodded, “My brother Ronald makes that. It really packs a punch to the face, but the fire effect is amazing, yes?”

“I daresay this would outsell the Arbor,” Lucerys murmured looking appreciatively at the cup in his hand, childlike wonder on a normally stoic face.

“We brought a dozen for the king as well. Ronald named it for them after all,” Harry offered with a chuckle.

With a smile, Lucerys took his seat and broached a topic that Harry wanted no part of, Dyanna. Harry had a suspicion that no wasn’t in Lucery’s vocabulary. Plus Harry had no excuses, there were no understandings with another family or betrothals, he just didn’t want to and that wasn’t going to be taken well.

“My niece Dyanna has yet to be promised. Normally I would not stand in for my brother, but a trip to Volantis has proven deadly, or it will. Aeron and the rest of the crew that sailed on the ship, have contracted Greyscale,” Lucerys shuttered at the word, “So it falls to me, to make sure the girl makes a good match. She’s young yet but flowered. This isn’t a formal request, mind. I’d like it for you to meet with Dyanna and her mother Daella. To see if you suit. They’ll be here tomorrow,” he said and patted the chair arm as though to say, that was that and stood, motioning to the door.

“I’m afraid that this Dragon’s Breath was stronger than expected. I believe that I shall retire for the evening.”

Harry followed Lucerys out into the hall and then just stood there blinking at the man as he walked away. That was one way to get him to agree to the meeting. Merlin, Lucerys had just steam-rolled right over him, just talked without pause and then left!

-0-

“Lord Harold, allow me to introduce my good-sister, Daella and my niece Dyanna. Daella, Dyanna, this is Lord Harold Leygood,” Lucerys introduced them.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Harry offered politely and kissed Daella’s hand when it was offered.

Daella was still quite attractive for her age. She was slightly shorter than him, with platinum hair that had yet to gray and sparkling violet eyes. He was fairly certain that if it was Daella that Lucerys was trying to marry him off to, he wouldn’t fight it. The woman was beautiful and voluptuous and smirking. He flushed a tad as he took his seat. 

Dyanna giggled and greeted him separately, “It’s good to meet you, Lord Harold.”

“You as well, my lady,” Harry replied.

He thought that one day, Dyanna would be as beautiful as her mother, but right now it was hard to see her as anything more than a child. The girl was fifteen, much too young to marry, at least by his modern mindset.

“I heard from a friend that you and your lady sister, were attacked just outside the city,” Dyanna blurted, firmly ignoring her mother’s look of consternation.

“Dyanna,” Daella hissed in warning.

With a look of apology to the elders at the table, Harry replied, “I’m afraid that’s true.”

“Jorel swears you have an ancestral valyrian sword, and that there are rumors it was actually enchanted!” 

“Dyanna, behave yourself,” Daella said. There were two growing spots of color high on the woman’s cheeks as her mood soured.

“It isn’t Valyrian steel,” Harry admitted.

“But, what is it? Why did Jorel say it was enchanted?” Dyanna asked clearly enthralled with the idea.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, “The sword is not something many know about, but it was passed down through my father’s line, from the time before the Andals came. It’s a touch like the Dayne’s sword.”

Even Lucerys had perked up, “Truly?” The man asked with equal curiosity.

“During the age of heroes, there were wizards amongst the people of Westeros. The more skilled of them, could indeed, enchant their weapons. I’m certain if you ask Lord Dayne, he would admit that the sword Dawn, never dulls. It’s been enchanted to be ever sharp.”

“Fascinating,” Even Daella had been brought around on the subject.

Now all three were staring with what could only be described as demand, for more information.

He smiled and said, “Before Leygood, before the Andals, thousands of years ago, our family name was different. Godric Gryffindor’s sword has passed down our bloodline since the age of heroes. And yes, it is heavily enchanted.”

“Gryffindor,” Lucerys tried out the name.

“How has your family kept it all these years? Hardly anyone has,” Dyanna asked.

“It’s part of how it was enchanted. It can only be called on by someone that shares Godric’s blood and only then if they are worthy enough to hold it. As soon as it has done its job, it vanishes,” Harry offered, smirking at the collected looks of disbelief. 

This was far more enjoyable than he’d thought it’d be. He was glad that some magic was known in this world and that it was acceptable to speak of it.

“I could show you, but you must promise never to touch the blade. Unfortunately, it absorbs anything that makes it stronger and someone killed a very poisonous snake with it. Ever since then, the blade has been poisoned, just a scratch is deadly,” He said and gave each of them a stern look.

“I promise! Please, my lord, I’d very much like to see Godric’s sword!” Dyanna cheered.

With a nod from Lucerys, Harry pushed away from the table and stepped back. Holding his arm to the side and down, he closed his eyes and focused on his need. The ruby hilted sword appeared in his hand at the thought.

“He wasn’t lying mother! Look, it’s real!” Dyanna gushed.

“That is a very impressive blade,” Lucerys murmured.

“It has served us well,” Harry replied and allowed the sword to vanish.

Lucerys tilted his head to the side just slightly as though contemplating Harry, “I would have thought your father the sort of man to squander such a thing.”

Daella gasped at the insult, but Harry had no issue with the statement. And not only because Lionel wasn’t actually his father, no. Lionel Leygood, was by all accounts, an alcoholic spendthrift that’d had exactly nothing when he died. They’d found the man, dead in his bed. He was so universally unliked, that no one had noticed.

“It pains me to admit, that’s likely true my lord, but alas, the sword never appeared to my father, so we shall never know,” Harry offered ruefully.

There was a twitch of amusement at the corner of Lucerys’ mouth, the only sign that he approved of the honesty.

“Does Godric’s sword only answer to you, Lord Harold,” Dyanna asked, bringing a much-needed change of subject.

“My brother Neville is able to call the sword as well. It’s always been my opinion that Neville is the bravest of all my siblings,” Harry admitted thinking of that long ago battle, where Neville denied the dark lord to his face and then lopped the head off of Nagini.

Dyanna looked thrilled by the idea that his brother was so heroic, “Is he your favorite brother?”

“I love all my brothers and sisters equally really,” he shrugged, even Ron. They were all permanent fixtures in his heart at this point.

“But, Neville is the bravest,” Dyanna said ignoring the servants that came into the room with platters to set the table for the evening repast.

Harry hummed, “That’s true, and Hermione is the smartest. My sister is far more intelligent than I am. Her rooms are atop the tower that contains our library, if it weren’t for common meals, I don’t think we’d ever see her,” he chuckled fondly.

Lucerys blinked, his face blank of all emotion, but Daella was thrilled. The older woman leaned in and said, “Finally, a man that isn’t threatened by a woman’s intelligence.”

He knew that might have been a misstep by the calculating glint in Lucerys eye. That and the renewed interest from Dyanna’s mother. Harry cleared his throat and offered, “I’ve never considered Hermione to be smart for a woman, she is simply smart. If the Citadel were to accept women, I daresay they’d learn a few things, from her.”

Lucerys looked as though he’d smelled something rotten. Across the table, Daella smiled widely at him and then looked over at her daughter fondly. Shit, Harry cursed mentally, he was really racking up future son in law points. Where was Hermione when he needed her? 

“What of the others?” Dyanna asked, pushing the food around on her plate more than eating it.

“Hm, let’s see. Well, Ronald has made it his life’s goal to make the best alcohol,” Harry laughed then sobered thinking of their saddest number, “Luna saw our mother die, it affected her deeply. Just last year the young man she was set to marry, died suddenly as well. Since then, she’s been very sad. I worry for her.”

“That’s terribly sad,” Dyanna said, blinking large wet eyes at him.

“True, something more upbeat than, yes? Andromeda is the eldest. She is very sneaky and can tell if anyone is lying just by listening to them speak. Lately, she’s been spending her time designing dresses and making jewelry. Neville studied herbology and agriculture, both locally and abroad. He’s very good at growing things. I helped him build a glass garden last season. He spends a great deal of time there.”

“He’s good at growing things? But, I thought. . . I thought you said he was brave,” Dyanna interrupted almost in accusation.

“Ah, I see, you thought Neville was a knight? Nay, my lady, none of us are. It’s never been an interest we share with the rest of the Reach,” he smiled ruefully, “But, yes. I say Neville is brave because he is. You’ll never see Neville in a tournament, but he would never fail to do what is right.”

Harry let the silence stretch and focused on his meal, occasionally shooting a hopeful look at Daella and Lucerys. He felt as though he’d been talking for a day, surely it was someone else’s turn, but the other adults seemed unwilling to start a conversation.

“That sword of yours is the only real magic, I’ve ever seen,” Daella chose to break the silence, “When I was a girl, many people would come to the Red Keep and claim to be sorcerer’s or preach their Red Gods with little fire tricks, but that is what they were. . .tricks.”

“I’ve never met a follower of Rholler, so I couldn’t say,” Harry offered.

“Nothing any of them did seemed real. What’s a little flash of fire, when there is Wildfire?” Daella asked with a hum.

“Your family used to have magic, more particularly an affinity for fire,” Harry mused.

“It’s always about the dragons,” Daella sighed and then her voice hardened, “Fire and Blood.”

Harry quirked a brow, “Apologies my lady, I didn’t mean to offend. It wasn’t the dragons that I was speaking of.”

At a look, Harry continued, “There was a time when all Targaryens were unburnt, fire couldn’t harm them. When they came to Dragonstone, they, with the help of one hundred and fifty sorcerers used the power of the Dragonmont to make it erupt. That castle, it wasn’t built, it was shaped with magic. The Valyrian sorcerers could control the flow of lava, from volcanic eruptions and form into shapes,” he said as though he’d commented on the weather.

Daella looked skeptical, but to Harry’s surprise, Lucerys said, “I’d heard something like that before. It makes a certain kind of sense, once one has seen the castle on Dragonstone. Parts of it are nothing but smooth obsidian.”

Harry nodded, “I’ve never seen the castle in person, just read a book about its construction.”

“I would be interested in seeing that,” Daella admitted somewhat wistfully.

“Well anytime you feel like traveling to the Reach, we’d be more than happy to host you. I’m certain that Hermione would be delighted to gather together any books of interest,” Harry offered and extended the invitation to Lucery’s as well, out of obligation more than anything else.

They could always compel visitors to not speak of any magic they saw. Or even, perhaps, get a vow. Everyone of the old blood had just enough magic in them to be bound to the magics of it.

“I might just surprise you and accept that offer Lord Harold,” Daella smirked.

-0-

“You showed them the sword of Gryffindor and spun some tale of our descent from the Age of Heroes!?” Hermione scoffed and shook her head.

“Magic is known here Hermione, there’s no reason to hide all of our abilities. Let’s just be selective, yeah? No need to scare the masses,” Harry countered.

She hummed, “Maybe. You’re right about known magic. There are even those called Hedge Witches that brew potions and claim to read fortunes,” her nose crinkled at the mention of questionable divination.

“Well, I was just trying to plant the seeds of believability and acceptance. It’s a fact that people here had magic before the Andals.”

“Still, the sword, that was a risk,” she chided.

“One that I didn’t bring up!” Harry groused, “Word traveled by mouth from a few witnesses. There were more than just bandits outside the city that day.”

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, “I’d forgotten, Merlin, Harry. I was so upset that I summoned my bag and then passed out food that would have seemed to appear from nowhere. What was I thinking?”

Hermione’s hands twisted in the front of her tunic as she fretted over the mistake.

“What’s done is done. As far as anyone is concerned, we’re of the blood of the First Men and Old Blood of Valyria. That integration of new blood has invigorated our line,” he insisted sternly.

Her mind was a thousand miles away as she considered that. After a few minutes, Hermione’s attention snapped back to him and she said, “I can make that work, even gather books that support it.”

“There was never any doubt,” Harry joked.

-0-

The day that King Aegon held court, clouds rolled in from over the ocean. Black in their intensity, the storm could be seen for miles before it hit the shore. When it did, Harry almost wished for the stink to come back. He worried for the people in the ramshackle housing on the narrow alleys, just at the bottom of the hill. Such a diversity of class, so close to one another was wholly alien to him. 

The nobles were outnumbered a thousand to one, and yet, everything continued on as it always had, with little rebellion. In a way that spoke to the likeability of the current king. At the same time, Harry didn’t know how someone could look at a child, obviously slowly starving to death. . . And do nothing.

Pence were tossed out by many in their party as they made their way down the hill toward the Red Keep. Children scrambled through the legs of the adults that all sought to gather the coin. Harry half thought they’d be more incensed if, like Hermione, they’d been tossing out bread. 

The imperturbable charms on his clothing keep Harry from being soaked to the bone. A flick of the wrist and another charm was layered over the bubble head, to keep rain from his eyes. He didn’t envy the other men as their boots squelched through the muddy rivers growing beneath their feet. 

Travel was slow and what should have only taken ten minutes was tripled by their parties three palanquins. The men laboring underneath groaned with the effort, their eyes fixed to the ground as they sought to keep their footing. No doubt knowing, that dropping a member of the royal family would be deeply unwise. Perhaps, even deadly. One never knew with the Targaryens. 

“Pull him up!” Harry shouted against the wind as he pointed frantically at the child who’d been trying for a coin.

There at the bottom of the hill, the water had risen enough that the boy’s head was entirely under, as the adults around, trampled over him.

Stomping forward through the muck, Harry walked right into the frenzied crowd and reached down for the boy. His hands slippery at first, unable to make purchase, until finally, he had a hold of the boy’s tunic. Ripping the child out from the water, the boy gasped and began to cough. Harry stood the child on his feet and clapped him on the back.

“Lord Harold, we must depart,” one of the household guards insisted from just over Harry’s shoulder.

A glance back showed he’d drawn the attention of the entire household. The guards were nervously watching the crowd for any sign that they meant Harry harm. 

With a nod, Harry backed away and continued on down the road, not wanting to chance any hostilities. 

-0-

Hermione peeked outside of the cracked curtain, swaying open under the weight of water and shook her head. He just couldn’t help himself. It was no wonder that Harry wanted to be open about magic, the man was practically made of it. There was just something otherworldly about him now, and had been. . . Ever since the end of the war, if she were being honest. 

She didn’t know if it were entirely the charms, but nothing touched him. When he sloughed through the muck for the child, Hermione thought he looked every inch an avenging angel. That saving people thing of his would be his end if he wasn’t more careful.

“And you wonder why people keep giving you hyphenated names,” she said aloud and snorted.

In no time, Harry would be infamous. She hoped this trip didn’t bite them in the arse. Of course, there was always the option to go traveling again, to another world. Something to keep in mind if the infamy brought people with pitchforks to their door.

-0-

Bobo tugged on Master Wheeze’s arm and hiccoughed, “T-there’s being a visitor master!”

“For the love of all that is good and holy, you have to stop letting Bobo try each batch!” Andy yelled.

Ron groaned and cupped his ears. He’d been pretty soused last night and had fallen asleep in the brewery, “Not so loud,” he whispered.

“Get up!”

“Shit, Andy! Where’s the fire?” He groused and pushed himself up from the cot he kept in the back.

A glance at Bobo had him snorting in amusement. The little elf always drank when he did. Sure. He was a bad influence on the little guy, but was it funny? Yes, it definitely was, he didn’t care what Andy said. And, it wasn’t like he made Bobo drink. The elf just did it.

Several scrolls were dumped into his lap, “You’ve got orders. Those sample casks you sent with Harry, well they were popular let us say.”

Ron’s eyes lit up, “Yeah?”

He wondered if this is what the twins felt like when they started their mail-order catalog. Then a thought occurred to him, “Eh, Andy. How will we get the casks to them?”

She frowned and then admitted they’d need to be sent out on carts, or taken to a port and sailed down the coast. Tossing a vial of hangover cure to both him and the elf, Andy turned on her heels and strode from the room.

-0-

The special perch she’d made was ten feet of the strongest wood. All along its length sat seven owls, all staring in rapt attention.

Luna weaved her wand over them smiling all the while, “Now, of course, you must remember, to still be owls.”

As one they tilted their heads dramatically and let out little hoots of approval.

“Yes. This charm lets you know where everyone is by name. Your jobs are very important,” she cooed at them.

The closest, a large black eagle owl, puffed up under her admiration. In reward, Luna ran her fingers down the sleek feathers covering the bird’s chest, “Yes, you’re magnificent.”

The owl barked at her and closed his eyes, enjoying the attention.

“Far superior to those tiny little ravens the Citadel is fond of, why you can carry large scrolls or small packages.”

They shuffled from foot to foot along the perch, as though they were all ready for a task.

Luna walked to the very end and stood in front of the smallest, “I’m going to call you Pigwidgeon in honor of an old friend,” she said and laughed in delight as the small owl rubbed its face against her hand.

“Are you ready,” she asked, holding a scroll in her hand.

The owl, now officially Pigwidgeon, bobbed his head and stuck out a leg.

Luna clapped her hands in delight and leaned forward to attach the scroll, “Take this to Ronald and then stay with him.”

Pigwidgeon jumped from the perch and beat his wings frantically to soar up into the air. She noted that the owl was indeed headed to the brewery and danced around in celebration.

-0-

Neville circled the God’s Gift tree, checking that each cutting was firmly lodged. 

“Walnut, Persimmon, Apple and Acorn,” he nodded at seeing they’d all taken.

Flipping the page of the Longbottom Grimoire, he sought the incantation to initiate permanent change.

Waving his wand, Neville chanted the ancient druidic spell. Long ago it had been used to aid the suffering of the poor. The trees were so revered that the commoners worshiped them. Because they were a magical hybrid, they lived for hundreds of years, fruiting constantly. It wasn’t until Christianity spread across the land that the spells were lost, or in the Longbottoms’ case, merely tucked away. 

It was as he’d studied local history, that Neville had come across information on the North and their Old Gods. From the Neck, northwards, these people already revered a certain kind of tree. But, unlike the Weirwood, the God’s Gift would actually improve their lives.

The joints where the cuttings were shunted began to glow a vibrant spring green as they started to grow. Every branch swayed as it absorbed the magic and spread. Tiny buds popped into existence at the top of every twig, no matter how small. 

Neville was panting with the effort of it by the time he’d finished. With his hands on his knees, and sweat running down his face, he looked upon the tree and smiled. Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds to form and collect them.

Pippy and Jax popped over to the tree, vibrating in excitement, “Its being beautiful,” Jax murmured.

“Should we start calling you Greenhand? I could be the six skinned warg Queen,” Luna said in greeting.

Neville chuckled, “Hello, Luna.”

“Do you think Harry is the Lightbringer? Or, is he the king?” Luna asked with none of her normal levity. Her eyes were glassy and distant, “I saw something in my dreams last night. It was cold and dark and ate all life,” she shivered.

Neville wrapped his arms around her and murmured into her ear, “Are you alright?”

To him, she felt thinner than normal, so slight a swift breeze might blow her away.

“I’m trying to be,” she whispered.

Neville closed his eyes and gave her a gentle squeeze. It pained him to see her like this. Some days were better than others. Today, was a bad day. Trying to bring some levity to the situation, he asked, “If I’m some legendary gardener, and Harry is the righteous hero, you the keeper of animals, who are the others?”

“Their names have been forgotten to time, but they too had roles,” she said, her voice oddly detached.

-0-

The entire Palanquin shifted dangerously as it threatened to list over on its side. Hermione let out a little squeak, her eyes shooting to the window as lightning lit up the sky burning through the dark gray. Movement caught her attention, she sought out Harry, easily finding him. That platinum hair worked as a beacon. 

She jumped in fright as thunder clapped loud enough to shake the litter. With a gasp, she lurched forward, her arm out of the window, “Harry!”

Harry looked up at the sound of her voice, unable to see the brawl that had started right behind him. The mob spilled forward as the violence escalated. 

“Harry!” Hermione screamed pointing behind him.

He turned just in time to take a dagger to the chest.

She screamed, forcing the door open, practically tumbling the few feet to the ground. Her feet splashed in the standing water. The heavy skirts she wore absorbed enough to make movement awkward. 

“Harry!” She called again, unable to believe what had just happened.

One of the household guards tried to hold her back as the others beat the riot back. She struggled in the iron bands around her chest, screaming for the boy who’d been her heart since she was eleven.

“No. No! No! Harry!” Hermione went limp and slipped down to the ground, free from the guards’ arms. 

Crawling forward through the filthy water, her hands searched.

“Come on,” She cried as her fingers danced over a tunic.

Frantically, Hermione put all her strength into pulling him into a seated position. Her hands ran over the fabric of his shirt. 

“What?” She murmured as her hands rubbed over the unmarred shirt, “Oh, you clever, clever man,” she sniffled.

There must have been an imperturbable charm on the cloth, she thought, but still didn’t know why he collapsed if that were true. 

Holding his cheeks, Hermione tilted his head from side to side, fingers accidentally brushing over a lump on the back of his skull. She whispered the incantation for dealing with a concussion and shot an Ennervate at him.

Harry gasped, wide-eyed and flailing, “Hermione!”

“I thought you were dead!” She cried pulling him into a fierce hug.

Harry snorted, “I have an affinity for death, remember? Luna said it, so it must be true,” he teased.

“My Lord, my lady! We must move!” One of the guards shouted as two more pulled them to their feet and ushered them on toward the castle.

She let out a sigh of relief as they were finally ushered inside the gates and allowed the household guards to whisk her toward a suite. Unfortunately, she was going to need to bath and to dress all over again.

-0-

“Are you well Lord Harold?” Lucerys hovered nearby, inspected the front of his tunic as they were herded into a chamber to freshen themselves.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Harry offered, though the older man didn’t appear to believe him.

Thankfully they were lead into separate suites so that the servants could bring in baths. Harry glanced down and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Even with his charm work, the clothes were ruined. There would be no washing them. At least not to his satisfaction after a swim through sewage. 

Hermione might be on to something. This city needed help. Not only was the infrastructure failing, but there were also no public works or ways for these people to clean, feed, or clothe themselves. It was appalling. No wonder the majority of the people were murderous heathens. Still, if it were him, he would have left the city long ago to build a cabin in the middle of the woods. He wouldn’t be knifing strangers for coin.

On another note, he needed sword lessons, and he needed that basilisk venom off Godric’s sword so he could carry it. Gods alone knew, there was no way he could win a fight without the swords enchantments. Unless he could figure out how to put Righteous Cause onto a new blade. They needed to have a family meeting. All of them needed a blade with that enchantment. 

His mental ramblings were interrupted by two women carrying in a large tub. Two more servants joined them to bring pails of hot water in. As the last of the water was added, the woman smiled coyly and ask, “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord.”

“Eh, no. I’m good here, thank you,” Harry hoped that he wasn’t blushing. 

Life here took a bit of adjustment to his overall world view. Women did not throw themselves at him back on Earth. It just did not happen. 

After he was alone, Harry flicked his wand at the tub and made it larger, even put in more hot water before sinking down inside with a sigh. 

-0-

“Sweet sister. And who is this beautiful woman? Surely not, Dyanna? You’ve grown just as lovely as your mother, dear niece,” Aegon greeted.

“Uncle,” Dyanna curtsied and blushed under the attention of the entire royal family as she and her mother joined them.

“The captain of the guard said there was a riot during the storm. Are you both well?” King Aegon asked in genuine concern.

Daella opened her mouth to answer, but Dyanna was the one to blurt, “Lord Harold was stabbed in the chest!”

Aegon blinked in surprise as he’d yet to be informed of any casualties, “I wasn’t made aware of that. What house did this lord Harold hail from?” He asked.

Dyanna glanced nervously at her mother, “He didn’t die, uncle.”

“I’m certain that it merely looked as though Lord Harold was stabbed, we discussed this Dyanna,” Daella reprimanded.

“How does it only look as though someone is stabbed in the chest?” Prince Duncan asked in curiosity as he and his wife Jenny were drawn into the conversation.

“Well, it was all very heroic,” Dyanna started, completely ignoring her mother’s rolled eyes and pursed lips.

Prince Jaehaerys laughed and asked, “Who is Lord Harold?”

“Lord Leygood of the Reach,” Daella interjected and added, “My good brother invited both Harold and his sister Hermione to visit.”

“Leygood, ah. . . Jaelyn Velaryon’s husband, yes? I was unaware they’d had children before her death,” The king said.

“They had seven children. Four boys and three girls. Lord Harold is nearly the spitting image of my good brother,” Daella said and smirked at her daughter as she blushed again.

Both prince’s and their wives were quick to cotton on to the fact that little Dyanna was smitten. 

“It seems a good thing that he’s survived then, our Dyanna looks altogether taken with the man,” Shaera gave her husband brother a coy look.

“What did Lord Harold do that was so heroic, cousin?” Prince Duncan asked the girl.

Dyanna was blushing fiercely as she said, “Some of our party were throwing pence at the poor and they’d begun to fight over them. A small boy in the front of the crowd was knocked to the ground, but there was so much standing water that his head was completely covered up. Lord Harold yelled at them to pull the boy up, but no one listened. So, he went into the crowd and pulled the boy out himself.”

“And nearly got killed for the effort, he should have left well enough alone,” Daella hissed.

“Mother,” Dyanna chided, “It was brave what he did.”

Daella huffed as her daughter continued on, “And then suddenly, his lady sister Hermione was half hanging out of her palanquin! Even over the storm, you could hear her scream, Harry!” Dyanna recounted dramatically.

Prince Duncan and Jenny both, were deeply amused by the recounting, “Then what happened?” The prince asked.

“Hermione was screaming for Lord Harold because just as he’d turned around to rejoin the party, the commoners turned violent and one of them was sneaking up behind him with a dagger!”

Dyanna paused and held her hand to her chest, her eyes watering, “But Lord Harold didn’t see the man! And Hermione, she jumped out of the palanquin screaming like she was being murdered, pointing at the man as she tried to run through the muck in her skirts!”

Shaera covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. 

“He must have finally realized what was happening, because Lord Harold turned, just as the man brought down the dagger. It hit him in the chest, r-right over his heart,” the girl stuttered and wiped her eyes, “I was certain he was dead.”

“It did look bad,” Daella admitted.

“Poor Hermione,” Dyanna added solemnly, “Her face. . . She just held out her arm and screamed no, over and over. One of the guards grabbed her, to keep her from the commons. By then Lord Harold’s body had sunk below the water.”

By this point in the tale, all eyes were riveted, “His body, but you said. . .” Jenny whispered sadly.

“His body. He was stabbed in the heart,” Dyanna shot her mother a venomous look, “No mother, you know I’m right! He was stabbed in the heart and fell straight back, dead into the water!”

Daella wrapped an arm around her daughter and rubbed her back, “I know it looked like that dear one, but he could not have been stabbed in the heart. Lord Harold is fine. I have it on good authority that he was brought into a suite to change his soiled clothing.”

“You’re wrong,” Dyanna sniffled, “When Hermione slipped free and pulled him out, Lord Harold wasn’t breathing. He was pale and still. It wasn’t until his sister put her hands on his chest that he gasped!”

“Perhaps he was hit on the head and merely knocked out? Did you not think of that?” Daella prodded at the most likely cause.

“How can you be sure, after seeing Godric’s sword?” Dyanna asked peering up into her mother’s eyes as though to divine the truth.

“His sword just appeared and then vanished! Was that not magic?” Dyanna asked.

Daella shrugged elegantly and gave Dyanna an exasperated look, “I’ll admit that the sword appeared to be enchanted, but the two are not one and the same,” she chided.

“So this heroic Lord Harold, has a magical sword and can live through being stabbed in the chest? I can see why you might like him,” Jaehaerys chuckled bringing some much-needed humor.

Dyanna nodded happily, “He said it’s from the Age of Heroes. That before the Andals came, his father’s blood were called Gryffindor and all through the millennia, Godric Gryffindor’s sword answers to his blood kin, but only if their cause is righteous and only if they are in need. Then, once its job is done, it vanishes!”

Prince Duncan snickered. The others too looked to be in doubt of Dyanna’s story.

“And did you see this sword of legend?” King Aegon asked with a gentle smile.

“We did,” Daella said much to their collective interest, “He said something about the blade absorbs . . .” she paused glancing at her daughter, “What did he say, darling?”

“He said he’d show us the sword, but only if we promised never ever to touch it. That the sword would absorb anything that which might make it stronger, and that someone had killed a very poisonous snake with it years ago. Since then the blade has been poisoned. A single scratch will kill a man,” Dyanna recounted in great detail, such was her memory of the dinner she’d shared with Lord Harold.

Daella hummed and nodded her head, “Yes. Then he walked away from the table and held his arm out like so,” she mimicked and spun back to her family, “This gleaming golden sword with a ruby encrusted hilt, just appeared in his hand. It had runes carved into the blade.”

“Then he let go and it vanished before it could hit the floor!” Dyanna gushed.

Aegon admitted, “I would not mind seeing this trick myself.”

“Nor I,” Prince Duncan agreed and smiled at Dyanna, “Well cousin, you’ve had quite a bit of excitement this week.”

“Has Lord Harold, offered for her hand?” The king asked his sister.

Daella gave Dyanna a fond smile, “No brother, he has not. I believe that my good-brother told Harold that he was merely introducing the two, to see if they suited. To my knowledge, Lord Harold was not looking for a wife.”

Dyanna’s eyes widened in alarm as her head snapped toward her mother in horror, “But, he was so kind to me!”

Her mother gave her nod, “He was, but dearest, I believe him to be like that all the time. And after Lord Harold left, your uncle Lucerys said he wouldn’t suit.”

The girl’s mouth dropped open and she gasped, “But why?”

“He had some controversial opinions,” Daella said with a sneer, “Gods forbid a woman have more than one use,” she added grimly.

“What--oh, I see. That is entirely unfair! I’m no longer hungry, may I be excused, your grace?” Dyanna asked of her other uncle, the one not currently attempting to ruin her life.

“Certainly dearest,” Aegon allowed gracefully and bid her a good eve.

After the girl had fled the room, Shaera leaned in and asked, “What did the heroic Harold say that had old Lucerys in such a state?” She asked with a gleam in her violet eyes.

Daella pursed her lips and recalled, “Dyanna was asking about his siblings and Lord Harold said that his sister was much smarter than him. You could tell he meant it and was unbothered, even chuckled,” she added with a smile than fled quickly when she said, “I made the mistake of saying, finally there was a man that wasn’t afraid of an intelligent woman,” she sighed.

Aegon’s brow furrowed, “That isn’t all that scandalous a sentiment.”

“Nay. But then he said, that his sister wasn’t smart for a woman. He said that she was simply smart and that if the fools in the Citadel ever let women study they could learn a thing or two, from her.”

Prince Duncan shook his head, “I take it your good brother did not approve?”

Daella shook her head, “Lucerys said that Lord Harold wouldn’t suit and that he would find someone more appropriate. Even hinted at a match with the Celtigar’s but the only unmarried son is nearing sixty. I would never agree to that.”

After a promise from Aegon to look into the situation, the conversation turned to other gossip as they finished their supper. 

-0-

“Remember not to tell stories today,” Hermione whispered lowly, “We don’t need any more attention before we leave here.”

Harry held a hand to his chest in faux innocence, “I speak only the truth, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes, “When I suggested you alter the way you speak, I didn’t mean to me.”

“Best stay in character sweet sister,” Harry purred and held out the crook of his arm, “You’ve only yourself to blame,” he added with a smirk.

She quirked a brow in question and shoved her forcible grabbed his offered arm.

“Two years ago, over Christmas hols . .” He trailed off looking entirely too amused with himself.

At her blank look, Harry laughed and said, “You claimed that I was annoying you, told me to shut up and threw a book at my head.”

“I’m sure you deserved it, but I hardly see how that applies to this situation,” she snipped.

“I was bored so I read the book.” Harry offered.

Hermione sighed, “Pride and Prejudice, you’re channeling Mr. Darcy,” she shook her head and snorted softly.

“Be fair, I’m nicer than Mr. Darcy, but yeah, the language fits here. You’re more like Mr. Darcy than I am.”

Hermione sputtered at the declaration.

“Don’t worry overmuch dearest. Your attitude is part of your charm,” he smiled sweetly and turned his attention back to the chamber.

They were awaiting the King to begin court so that he could swear fealty as the head of house Leygood. It was packed and the would-be petitioners were a mixed bag. There were commoners, lords, and merchants all milling about, at least those that didn’t fit in the seating. One of the only good things about getting here entirely too early was that they could sit.

“All rise for his Grace, King Aegon Targaryen the fifth of His name. Protector of the Realm, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, of the Andals, of the First Men and of the Rhoyne.”

Just as the man began to call forth the first, Hermione pinched him in the side. Harry narrowed his eyes at her in warning. The slight tilt of her chin in response, nearly made him growl. Someone was going to have a little jinxed shampoo later. A concoction that harkened to the olden days of Gred and Forge.

“Lord Harold Leygood, to swear fealty as the newly instated head of house.”

Harry glanced around nervously, wishing desperately he’d paid better attention to the first poor bloke. Somehow he shoved the nerves aside to stride forward and take a knee. There was a tingle of magic just beyond him that felt, familiar. Without looking up, Harry could only guess it might be coming from that monstrous throne.

Clearing his mind, Harry recited the vow that Hermione had practiced with him.

“I vow on my life and in good faith, that I will in future be faithful and loyal to King Aegon Targaryen, the fifth of His name, and to His heirs, in matters of life and limb and of earthly honor against all mortal men; and never will I bear arms for anyone against Him or His heirs.”

As he said the last words, he felt a flash of magic and heard several people gasp in alarm. Those gathered in the chamber ignored previous warnings for silence and began whispering furiously to one another. Harry’s heart plummeted as he realized what he’d done. A real magical vow. Hermione was going to kill him if the muggles didn’t. 

“Silence!” The King’s voice cracked like a whip immediately bringing the chamber back to order.

“Lord Harold, please rise before Us. We accept your vow in good faith,” King Aegon spoke and the noose tightened as a single golden thread flashed around Harry’s wrist and sunk into the skin.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Harry replied and stood.

“I have heard many interesting things about you as of late, Lord Harold. The most intriguing were rumors about your sword. To say nothing of your brush with death evening last, but for now, I would be most pleased to see this sword of Gryffindor,” the King’s voice was strong and loud, carrying easily throughout the chamber.

Harry held his arm out and down, thinking of his need. The weight of it settled in his hand as another wave of whispers swept through the room.

“Interesting. Very interesting. Might I see it?” The King requested and immediately one of the King’s guard stepped forward from his place behind the throne.

Holding the sword by the pommel, he held it delicately, “Be careful not to touch the blade, it has been infused with Basilisk venom and no amount of cleaning it has rid it of the poison,” Harry instructed as he placed the sword in the tall knight’s hands.

The King admired the sword, carefully turning it from side to side, his eyes trailing down the writing, “What language is this?”

“Ancient Armanen runes,” Harry recalled aloud.

King Aegon blinked, “I am unfamiliar with these, from where do they hail?”

“The North, before it was a kingdom,” Harry replied.

“And what does it say?” King Aegon asked turning the blade once more.

“And Here Dwell The Brave of Heart, Gryffindor,” Harry offered.

King Aegon hesitated to give the sword back to the knight, so enthralled with the blade that he looked at it greedily. His eyes, when they met Harry’s, were striking in their intensity, “Were those Gryffindor’s words?” He asked.

Harry gave a nod and said, “Yes, Your Grace.”

There was a certain kind of momentum to the question. Harry felt something just under his skin itch as though to be free.

“Where was this Godric Gryffindor from?” King Aegon asked.

“A small hollow, in the mountainous region, now known as The New Gift,” Harry said without hesitation or thought, the thrum under his skin sizzling as something resonated within him. . . A horrible truth. 

An alternate world. Similar, with a single point of divergence. Days were twenty-four hours long. Every race was the same. It was the same planet. It was more truth than a tale, the New Gift was Godric’s Hollow. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as he imagined what possible horror caused such a stall in this timeline and then cursed himself for picking this particular moment to dwell upon it.

Thoughts cascaded like an avalanche, crashing through conceived ideas and picking up speed. They had crossed dimensions to a parallel world. But there was something about that niggling in the dark recesses of his memory. It was something Hermione had lectured him on when he wanted to make a new Mokeskin bag.

“I have ever been intrigued by the myths and histories of the Age of Heroes and the North. Never once did I encounter a reference to any mention of Gryffindor,” the King’s words weren’t as much question as an accusation.

“That isn’t all that surprising Your Grace, Godric was only the equivalent of a landed knight after all. He came from humble means. His own father lacked a surname. They were breeders of Gryffin‘s, or so it‘s said. Their home was at the entrance of the hollow, the door one could say. Once Godric had proved himself in battle, he was acknowledged and allowed to choose a name. And so he became known as Godric Gryffindor.” Harry offered. 

“I know not the truth of this matter; however, you are an excellent storyteller and I have been greatly entertained. Ser Duncan?” The King addressed the head of the guard, “See that Lord Harold is escorted to Maegor’s Holdfast tonight for the evening meal, along with the Lady Hermione, I should like to meet her as well.”

Once the command had passed, Harry was dismissed and left to tuck tail and submit to Hermione.

-0-

“A magical vow!” Hermione hissed as soon as they were alone.

Harry hung his head, “I know. I don’t understand how that happened, it wasn’t as though I was trying to do that,” he denied.

Her face crumpled as she looked away, “This changes things. You’re bound to him now and his heirs, shit!” She cursed and stomped her foot in emphasis.

Yeah, he caught on to that fact when he’d felt the vow take hold. 

“Listen, I was thinking about something right after that. There was familiar magic coming from the front of the room, it felt like us.” Harry informed her and turned bright wild eyes on his friend, “The vow was pulling truths from me, even when I didn’t want to admit them. What I said. . . About Godric, all that was true!”

Hermione’s brow furrowed in thought as she shook her head, “That’s not accurate, not for this world at any rate.”

Harry pointed a finger at her in triumph, “That’s just it, Hermione! This is the same world. Pulled to another dimension, to a similar world with a single point of divergence. That’s what Luna claimed. This is the same world. The length of the days are the same. All of the races are here, it’s all relatively the same, even if the landmasses don’t line up,” he continued half to himself as he thought out loud.

“I think she was just wrong Harry. We wanted to believe we were going to a different version of home,” Hermione said sadly.

“You’re wrong. No, listen to me. The sword, it supposedly came from the hat, yes?” He asked excitedly.

“Yes, the sword came from the hat you’ve been keeping from me,” she accused.

Harry chuckled, “You’re never going to let that go are you?” He jokingly asked and waved a hand to stall her, “The thing is Hermione, I listen to you.”

Hermione offered him a small smile.

“Even when you’re beating me over the head with some concept that I just don’t understand, I listen. About five years ago my Mokeskin bag was damaged in an Auror raid, remember?” He prodded hoping that she did.

“Yes. It was struck with a dark cutter and exploded, dumping all the things you’d shoved into the poor thing, all over the alley,” she smirked thinking of the veritable hoard that’d been exposed.

He nodded happily, “Yes, I know. You all got to see the depths of my hoarding,” he laughed and began to motion with his hands as he talked, “But when you helped me make a new Mokeskin bag, you said,” he paused and pulled the bag out from under his shirt, “You said that there were three kinds of expansion charms. One was finite much like a doubled trunk for Hogwarts students. It’s stable and transportable. Useful because one can apparate with one of the trunks, even if it’s shrunken. Which was why we used them to bring our things with us.”

Hermione’s eyes glazed as she gasped and said, “That’s right. The second are dimensional wizarding space. Rooms that have been enlarged and while they’re useful, they can be quite unstable if one attempts to move them. But the third, the kind used with enchanted cloth, are all merely shifted just outside of our reality. A pocket that is highly unstable if altered.”

“Which is why your original beaded bad didn’t make the trip,” Harry hedged and grasped the Mokeskin bag hanging from his neck once more, “I’ve not bothered to look inside of this since we arrived.”

Hermione snatched the bag from his hand and wrenched it open. She tried to put her hand inside of it to search for anything that might have been stored within, only to find it had no additional space. It was simply a very small leather pouch, “Nothing, there’s nothing inside of it.”

“I figured. Now apply that logic to the hat,” he insisted.

Her head tilted to the side and she glanced at him, mulling the idea around, “It was a simple felt hat. Even as advanced as the founders of Hogwarts were, they would have had to place the only kind of expansion charm that adheres to cloth. The sword couldn’t have been inside of it. . . Not once we’d crossed dimensions,” she finished, her eyes wide.

“Yes. The vow requires me to be honorable and faithful to the King and his kin. It doesn’t allow me to lie to the man. Godric Gryffindor existed here, millennia ago!” Harry exclaimed, “We should search above the wall when there’s time. There must be, ruins . . . Something must have survived because the sword had to have come from somewhere in this world.”

Hermione nodded, “Luna would enjoy an adventure, perhaps Neville as well. Oh! Does that mean that the sword isn’t infused with Basilisk venom!”

“Eh, I don’t know. Haven’t exactly wanted to knick someone to find out,” he admitted.

-0-

“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Neville said as he dropped the last seed into the bag.

The dozen or so elves that’d been watching nodded excitedly.

“People here all have plenty to eat. We’ll start planting them near the ruins of Moat Cailin and work our way up,” he informed his small army of volunteers.

Luna breezed into the greenhouse as though carried by the wind, “I’ll go with you until you reach the Wall.”

“More dreams?” Neville asked in concern.

Her pale brow furrowed, “Some. I don’t think you should travel past it without Harry,” she said in reply.

Neville hummed in acceptance, it was sound advice. Luna was by no means a seer, or at least. . . She hadn’t been. If there were a single grain of truth in any of her current nightmares, then travel above the Wall was unsafe.

“We should introduce ourselves to the green men that live in the swamps. They’ll gladly take a tree of their own,” she said with a happy giggle and clapped her hands.

“I’ll be sure to stop and say hello. Little green men eat too after all,” Neville smiled.

She poked him in the side, “The Crannogmen are very real thanks ever so!”

-0-

 

They’d been holed up in guest quarters awaiting the much worried about dinner with the royals. Hermione had been sequestered in something called the maiden's vault, she wasn’t amused. As soon as the guards had left, she’d apparated into his rooms. 

“Here,” Hermione said, shoving something grey and furry at him.

“What is--er, why are you handing me a rat?” Harry asked.

She bit her lip and looked torn down at the fairly large rodent clutched in her hands. “I think you should give it a little cut on its paw. See if the sword is poisoned?”

He smirked, “I’m surprised at you. Look at that poor little furry face. Sure he’s ugly, but he’s also defenseless,” Harry cooed and let out a yelp when she tossed the rat at his face.

Luckily the thing had been stunned, so it and he were both fine. Grumbling a bit, Harry flicked his wand to transfigure a pillow into a cage. Summoning the sword, Harry leaned over the rat and put a fairly small scratch on its paw, then dropped it in the cage and released it from Hermione’s spell.

They watched it twitch as it woke and scurried around the edge of the cage. While it did squeak and make a fuss, the rat was still perfectly healthy an hour later. 

“Part of me believed you were right, but this is proof. That’s a different sword,” Hermione murmured in awe.

“Well, at least I can safely carry this one. It’s dangerous not to walk around armed here. That’s why we were attacked outside the city. I know we were perfectly able to defend ourselves, but if we could keep the attacks from happening, to begin with, that would be great.” Harry babbled excitedly.

“Sure, because no one will attack you while you’re carrying a golden ruby encrusted museum piece,” she scoffed.

Harry laughed and gave her a shrug, “True, but I can’t use a regular sword. You’re the brains of this operation, figure out the enchantment Righteous Cause. Then our entire family can fight like legendary knights!”

She held out her hand, “Sold. There are so many men here that need to be taken down a peg.”

Before Harry could hand her the sword, it appeared in Hermione’s hand, “Looks like I’m worthy,” she said with a vicious shark-like grin.

-0-

Neville stomped back to their wagon and climbed back behind the reigns, “We should have just apparated. These bridge trolls want an obscene amount to let us cross.”

“I’ll talk to the horses,” Luna offered sweetly and adjusted the mosquito netting that hung from her safari hat. 

Standing in front of the two horses, Luna said, “I’m going to need you both to pull the wagon over the water, is that alright?”

Neville snorted, “I’ll charm the wagon wheels to roll on top of the water, if you can convince the horses to do the same.”

“Carrots all around,” she replied.

With a look back at the small saplings in burlap stacked upright in the cart, Neville whistled and snapped the reigns. The two horses whinnied and tossed back their heads, clomping forward. Their hooves found tread on top of the steep current.

“Woo!” Neville cheered and leaned over to kiss Luna on the cheek, “I love you.”

She nodded dreamily staring at her hand as it cycled through several skin tones and shapes, “And I love you.”

“Many rivers to cross, But I can’t seem to find my way over,” Neville sang out and glanced at Luna, “You know that one?” He asked.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, “Wandering I am lost.”

“As I travel along the white cliffs of Dover,” he continued, holding out a hand to clasp hers, “Many rivers to cross, And it’s only my will that keeps me alive.”

Luna’s grip tightened.

Looking over he let out a shuddered breath, “Please don’t,” he whispered as a knot formed in his throat and his eyes burned.

“Do you miss her, as much as I miss Rolph,” Luna’s voice came out of Hannah’s face and it was nearly his undoing.

“Y-you know I do, please Luna,” Neville rubbed a hand over his throbbing heart.

“I could be her if you’ll be him,” she whispered.

“No. No, I couldn’t bear it.” Neville stammered and ran the back of his free hand over his face.

“Rolph and our boys went to the Leaky that day. Just to have lunch before visiting their grandfather in London. Months later I went into the city a-and. . . And I ask my wand to point me to their remains. I thought if I could bury them, then . . .”

“But there was nothing,” Neville added all on his own.

“No, it pointed me toward what remained of Trafalgar Square. I thought it was so strange that there were shadows on the stone wall. Shadows, when no one was standing there. But, my wand kept pointing at the boy shaped shadows Neville.”

Neville sobbed and shook his head, “Please Luna,” He begged, avoiding looking directly at her, not wanting to see Hannah staring back at him, with Luna’s half dead eyes.

“I’m sorry!” She sobbed and fell into his side.

“It’s alright darling, I love you. We’re both of us a bit broken, yeah?” Neville said and kissed her on the top of her head.

They spent the next leg of their journey in silence, both of them too exhausted emotionally to speak. 

As the last rays of sunlight were breaking over the sky, the wagon pulled into the ruins of Moat Cailin. Neville picked a spot just off the road where it narrowed down between two old crumbling towers. Every traveler would have to pass this spot or walk into the swamps.

It was a good spot.

“We should give them faces,” Luna offered in a small quiet voice as she gently handed Neville the small sapling.

“You think?” He asked and banished a hole into the rocky soil.

After getting the God’s Gift tree into its new home, he placed his hands on it and gave it enough magic to grow. Luna walked over and joined him, placing her hands atop his. He could feel her add her own brand of magic to the process, but couldn’t quite tell what she meant to do. 

When the job was done, Neville stepped back and smiled wistfully. The full-grown tree didn’t have a face like the Weirwood. Luna had made the entire trunk form into a living sculpture of Hannah with her arms raised high.

“It’s beautiful Luna, thank you,” he offered.

“Hannah will look after travelers between two kingdoms, always making sure her charges are fed,” Luna replied.

“Just as she did in life.” Neville agreed.

-0-


	4. Hp/Got 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry becomes an Unspeakable to study the veil of Death. discoveries about its origin send him on a long adventure in a foreign land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with Game of Thrones. As always, I own nothing. Harry Potter and Game of Thrones are owned by J.K.Rowling, G.R.R. Martin and HBO respectively. This story contains adult language and situations and canon-typical violence.
> 
> -0-

The Origin

-0-

Ten years of blood sweat and tears would culminate today. Harry almost didn’t believe he’d gotten this far. It had taken everything he had to get into the Unspeakables. Then above a hundred percent to prove that he belonged there and that it wasn’t a favor to the man-who-conquered. 

He’d been studying the veil of death on his own now for nearly five of those ten years. The three that had been on his team long ago gave up on finding the artifact's secrets, but he just had to know. After all, it had taken someone from him. There were so many questions to be answered, like who had made it, where it had come from before being carted into the Ministry basement and most importantly--what was its original purpose?

None in the department could answer any of those. The device had been found in Nurmengard after Grindlewald’s fall. The Dark Lord hadn’t made it, as the veil was ancient; however, he had been conducting experiments with it. 

After getting permission all other materials from the site were released for his study, including the Dark Lord’s notes. He’d been the first one to have been granted the chance to read them. While it had been another instance of man-who-conquered special treatment, he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. Finally, after reading those, he had the where. It had actually been found by the Nazi’s during the war while they were searching for something else. The thing had been hidden in the ruins of what was once old Sumer. At that point, it was completely inert, or so Gellert claimed. 

He found that the outer ring would pulse whenever he brought his wand near it. The material was highly conducive to magic. After a few months of trying various things, Gellert flung an Avada Kedavra at the thing in a fit. What had happened had spooked the man.

. . . The curtain flutters to an unnatural wind, and behind it--there were voices. Others say they cannot hear, but now I can’t not. 

It wasn’t too long after that Gellert had volunteered a prisoner to travel through the artifact. Everyone knew how that turned out, what they might not know is, Gellert was able to make the device change. It didn’t always show the souls of the dead. Once he’d realized that different kinds of magic caused other effects, he tried just about everything.

He postulated that the device was a portal that could be attuned, to what he didn’t know as all he managed was to kill with it. One question he’d posited that Harry fully believed was going in the right direction was, could priory be used, as it was on a focus, to show its many connections. To use the veil, or turn it on, one had to feed it magic--like a wand. 

Standing on the platform before the veil, his hands shook as he raised his wand. Harry shot a priory at the veil with the intention of seeing its past use firmly in his mind. At first, he didn’t think anything would happen, but then ghostly images of the recently deceased began to fade into existence before him. 

Harry let out a sob as Sirius fell into the wall of souls all over again. More followed, so many more. He hadn’t realized the veil had been used for so many executions. Dozens, hundreds slipped past, all into death. He felt numb watching them, surely there was something more, there had to be.

Eventually, the image did shift, he saw the angry flash of green and the flutter of the curtain. He held his breath, that had been Gellert. Anything before this would hopefully give him answers. Harry backed away as the arch began to pulse and then whine with something akin to an overloaded machine. The cloth was gone and the center glowed a bright cerulean blue that swirled in a circle. The light grew brighter and brighter, nearly blinding. 

Fellow Unspeakables were beginning to fill the chamber, some were screaming at him, but he had no mind for that. The ghostly images of an entire line of people walked into the swirling blue, distant chimes--bells, it sounded--

“. . . Now! Shut it down now Potter!” His boss shook him.

Harry was mesmerized, an entire group of people--had left and gone--somewhere else. Where had they gone? Harry reached out a hand toward one of the figures. A tall man with black hair and steely gray eyes, that bore a striking resemblance to Sirius. As he made contact with the apparition, the man's eyes met with his. He gasped and stumbled forward, as the man‘s eyes began to glow.

“North.”

“What?! Wait!” he muttered and walked toward the light, there was extreme resistance but he was determined, he felt drawn forward, nearly compelled.

“Grab him! Something’s pulling him in!” Croaker screamed at them all, begging one of the others to help him.

Madness Harry thought in a half second of mental coherence, it was mad, but he had to know--and so, he stepped in.

“I didn‘t recognize the language. Harper go drop the memory in the pensieve. I want to know what that--man, said,” Croaker cursed knowing how everyone would take this. They just lost Harry Potter.

-0-

Time and Place, unknown 

The ancient palace was nearly engulfed by the surrounding jungle. Thick verdant vines covered the entirety of the marble structure. Through the long empty windows, a bright blue began to glow through the thick layer of plants. The light pulsed and grew as something came to life that had been forgotten for an age. Machinery hummed to reluctant motion as gears whined in protest.

Bright swirling blue coalesced with a thrum of success into a stable portal and soon after a single body fell through and rolled to a stop on the damp stone floor. 

Harry groaned and surveyed the room he now found himself in. Whatever the place was, it had been abandoned some time ago. Lichen grew in soft green patches along the floor. His hand slipped in the slick mess as he tried to push himself up into a seated position. 

“That was a bad idea,” He groused as a very familiar device powered down to a screeching halt.

It was strange that the portal on this side was more like muggle technology than magic. 

Wiping his hands on his already dirty trousers, he walked over to the archway and examined the machinery. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear this thing was hooked up to what looked suspiciously like--a computer. 

A bookcase on the far wall held a pulpy mess of ruined moldy books and papers. Glancing at the remains, reminded him again of the slime covering a good portion of his clothes. Without thought, he flicked his wrist and cast a wandless Scourgify. One of the many spells he’d learned to cast without a wand in the past decade of study. Afterwards, he panicked and looked over wearily at the old muggle tech. Nothing was smoking or melted, well, not any more than it already had been. 

“Interesting,” He murmured and flicked another Scourgify at the archway. 

The entire device hummed to life briefly as though he’d temporarily powered it with his magic. Not muggle tech then, something other. Once he realized that magic wouldn’t hurt anything in the room, Harry went around and cleaned the whole thing, then stood before the bookcase. 

He took out his wand for an added boost in power. If this was to work, he’d need it. 

“Reparo!”

The shelves that had been close to completely collapsing, straightened out and were once again square. This did nothing for the contents, however, and so Harry cast and recast the repairing charm. Each little clump of ruined paper slowly began to resemble actual books. He didn’t know how long it had taken him to accomplish this, but he’d lost what little light was coming through the windows and the room was quite dark now.

“Lumos,” he motioned with his hand to detach the spell from his wand and send the growing ball of light toward the ceiling. 

It was unnecessary though, as his words seemed to bring another portion of the tech to life. Tubes of light along the ceiling crackled to life disturbing an array of things, he’d not noticed in his cleaning spree. The giant white and pink bat that screeched and dropped down from a beam, for one and its dozen companions that followed. 

Harry wasn’t too embarrassed to say that he shrieked like a woman as the giant bats headed straight for him. The little blighters had fangs large enough to see even from a distance. He was able to stun them all before they reached him, thankfully.

“Those things are huge!” He cursed and glanced over at the large open windows, protected only by vines. Who knew what other kinds of creepy crawlies lived in this place.

He went around the room and repaired all the windows before looking back up at the ceiling. It took several hours, but by morning Harry had managed to beat back the encroaching jungle. He cleaned and repaired the entire room and made sure all the doors were sealed to the rest of the--castle, before conjuring a cot and passing out in exhaustion.

-0-

 

There were two things that woke Harry, a stinging burn in his left forearm and an overwhelming need to take a piss. Stumbling off the cot and of the mind to fix the second issue, he scratched absently at his left arm and felt a large bump--that moved. His eyes widened in alarm as what could only be an insect, lurched around under his skin. 

Gritting his teeth, Harry conjured a knife and cut the wound open further, summoning the insect out. The fly was similar to those found in South America but much larger. Dropping it onto the floor, he smashed it under his boot then summoned the wound again for eggs or toxins. He shuddered as something came out of the wound both times. 

“Wards. Lots of them,” he cursed and went about warding the room against pests of any kind and another for people and animals. With the way his luck was going, there was probably man-eating cannibal people living in a cave nearby with pet monsters that fed on happiness.

As the wards closed over the space there was an electric snap. He closed his eyes and shuttered, that only happened when the warded area was already full of pests. At least they’re dead now, he thought.

Unbuttoning his shirt, Harry pulled his trusty mokeskin pouch out and summoned a Feverfew. The paranoia and despair of the second blood war had left him changed. It had only taken nearly starving to death on the Horcrux hunt, to really drive constant vigilance home. These days he never went anywhere without the mokeskin pouch. It was bottomless, weightless and packed for any contingency.

Even Hermione had made fun of him when she’d finally gotten him to admit what all he carried around. Potions, money, both muggle and magical, a tent, clothes, food, bottled water, and the Hallows--though he never did admit to recollecting those. Not even Hermione knew he’d kept the wand and retrieved the stone. It felt wrong to leave them out there for another rising dark lord to find and use. 

Downing the fever potion he sighed in relief, already he felt much better. It was worrying though. That potion would cure Malaria and a dozen other maladies. It was just the fact that it was already needed. 

He needed to completely repair this castle and ward the whole thing from the outside. Though the urge to leave altogether was strong, he really wanted to learn about the people who built this place before he left it, either by foot or portal. 

-0-

Hunched over the low standing conjured table he gobbled down a couple of Molly’s beef sandwiches. Harry would never forget the look on the woman’s face when he told her he wanted to put a stockpile of her cooking away--just in case. It was a look caught between extreme pride and horrible pity. 

“Who’s laughing now Hermione,” he offered the room before taking another bite of Molly’s food.

The day had been a productive one. He’d cleared the entire first floor of vermin, bugs, and plants and warded it. Secretly he feared that there were several stories, but he had food and time.

-0-

The four-story castle had been cleared, cleaned and repaired. Going through the books and devices the people had left was slow going. Although he was fluent in many languages both modern and dead, thanks to his job, the Cuneiform these people wrote in was slightly different than what he’d learned. It made translation a difficult process. 

He did know that they called themselves Sumerians, from Sumer. Which gave him more questions than answers. Was that a portal to the past, or another world? If this was a new world, did that mean Earth’s Sumerians were aliens? Harry shook his head and shelved the thought. He had to clear the vines from the outside today and beat back the jungle enough to ward the yard. There had been a few of those bats at the window last night when he’d had the light on. These things acted more like ridiculously huge mosquitoes than bats. They were large enough that he was certain they could kill a human during a feeding. 

Walking over to the window to peek through the wall of green in the early morning light, he muttered, “There’s always Fiendfyre.”

He transfigured a couple of towels into a beekeeper hat, gloves and overcoat. After charming all of it impervious and adding an aversion charm to it, just in case, he strode out the front door into the already sweltering wet heat. 

Diffindoes cut down everything ahead of him in large swathes. When he got a fairly large pile of refuse, Harry would vanish it and move another meter. One of the mutant flies landed on the sleeve of his coat and fell off.

“Not today you little bastard!” Harry cursed and continued throwing around cutting curses like they were candy at a parade. 

One for you and you and you, he thought and chuckled. He’d need to find other people soon before madness set in.

-0-

Day 9 - What used to be Sumer, middle of the miserable jungle - daybreak 

Yesterday just as he had completed the wards on the outside, something large had begun to run through the jungle toward him. The tops of the trees jerked around and the ground shook right before the thing had barreled into the ward headfirst and knocked itself out.

A gorilla that had to be at least twenty feet tall. If the wards hadn’t been up that giant monkey would have pulverized him.

Harry's jaw cracked as he yawned, “I’m never going outside again, er, well not until I have to,” he mumbled aloud and set about getting some breakfast.

Things were coming along on the translation front, but he had a hard deadline. He’d run out of food in six months. If he hadn’t learned everything he could here by then, he’d still need to leave. There was no way he was wandering into the jungle to scrounge for food. Even the plants were sinister. Some of the vines were much like venomous tentactula. Palms back home had thorns, but the ones he’d found clearing the land outside, they shot poisonous barbs. There was no staying here, not unless he burned the jungle to the ground and started over.

Plopping down in the chair, he turned the terminal on. It was impressive that the old mainframe still worked after all this time. Even repaired, the books were still in foul enough condition that portions of pages were missing. The computer was uncorrupted by time, however, and once he’d learned the language well enough to navigate the main menu, it was smooth sailing.

It was set up more of a repository of all their knowledge than for any one thing or purpose. He’d trolled through various sections and settled on history. What he found was mind-bending. The ancient Sumerians were an advanced race of humans that all had magical ability to some degree. Thirty thousand years ago, one of their revolutionary scientists had come up with a way to bridge worlds by portal. After investigating the new tech, they began to look for stable worlds to explore that were different enough from their own to merit the trip. 

Eventually, they settled on Earth, as it was similar in atmosphere and had comparable life forms. Two hundred explorers and scientists had walked through the portal the very next year. There had been a large rift in society because of it. Two factions were on opposite sides of the main issue. The scientists wanted the freedom to study and explore all knowledge, while the purists wanted to live a magical life without the hindrance of technology, at all. 

While those two hundred pilgrims were exploring on a foreign planet, war broke out here. One side used militaristic technology including something that sounded a great deal like the atomic bomb. The purists responded in kind, using dark magics. In the end, they killed each other to a man and destroyed the land. No one survived.

When the explorers tried to come home, they couldn’t. The device they had, failed to open a portal because there was simply nothing left at the other end. To make matters worse, Earth was far behind them and had no technology to speak of, so they were forced to rely on their magic. It took them forty years to build the archway with just magic. By then many of them had children or in a few cases, grandchildren, all born on Earth. Most of them refused to leave what they saw as their home. 

Thirty people crossed through the archway and landed here in this jungle. This castle was the only standing structure they’d been able to find and only then because it had been built in the wilds far away from any of their towns or cities and had been under their version of wards. 

It was discovered that the magical portal, the archway, was in no way stable. While they had spent forty years on Earth, thirty thousand had passed here. Between war and the sheer devastation of time, there was nothing left of their society. They were a handful of people, adrift. 

Several argued that they should rebuild the archway and escape back to Earth. Ten men and women stayed in this castle and did just that, while the remaining twenty decided to explore this planet in the hopes of finding a safer place to live. 

The oldest amongst them, Adam, headed the project to build the computer and archway. He wrote an account of all that had happened. Left what he could of their history and knowledge in case they didn’t make it back to Earth. As the time for them to leave grew close, he did his best to update the status of the twenty they’d be leaving behind. 

Four were lost to the east, nearest where their largest metropolis had been. The radiation was still strong enough to kill.

Ten settled an island to the west with a flock of sheep they had rounded up and started a fledgling colony.

Six led by their youngest member, Brandon, who’d been born on Earth, headed to the far north. 

In the last communication Adam had received from Brandon, he spoke of a rising darkness, of evil the likes of which he’d never seen. That honor demanded he stay and help the people there. 

Adam and nine others went back to Earth, two days after contacting Brandon. 

That had been over eight thousand years ago if the calendar on the computer was correct. 

-0-

 

Harry stared at the archway in frustration as it failed to connect once again. Nothing he did could get the thing to open a portal. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

Adam had written out their history, journals of their travels. He’d left maps of this world and described some of the wonders his people had built all that time ago. All that even listed their holidays and what they were based on. But did Adam leave any information about the portal? No, of course not. Not a single mention of how they built the portal, or schematics, nothing. 

Harry let out a string of profanity that would have made a sailor blush and violently kicked the wall.

“Ow, damn it!” Harry hopped around on one foot, before throwing himself back into the chair.

Leaning his head back he shut his eyes and considered his options. He couldn’t go home, nor could he stay here. Eventually, the wildlife would kill him. There was a very real fear that once he left someone from Earth would open the portal from their end and arrival here after he left. Still, he had to leave. He knew from Brandon’s account, there were other society’s out there in this world now. After eight thousand years they should be fairly developed, or so he hoped.

Thumping his head against the back of the chair, he decided on leaving his own message as Adam had done. Summoning parchment from his bag, Harry spent the rest of the afternoon giving a loose account of all he’d found out. He warned anyone that had the misfortune of ending up here, not to wander around outside and explained why. The Unspeakables were smart enough to find him if worse came to worse and they came through.

Just in case they were stuck, he left a basket of food and water along with his letter.

-0-

 

Harry clutched the firebolt tighter as he leaned away from the wyrven and brought his wand to bear. The screeching beast took a bombarda to its ugly face and plummeted toward the ground, hopefully dead. 

He’d encountered the horrible things a half hour into his flight and they’d been hunting him the whole way across the continent. So far he’d taken out eight of them, but there were still three giving chase.

From the maps he knew whereabouts the sheep people had settled and had set out for their island. After six hours at top speed, he could just now see the ocean on the horizon. Seeing the scale of the continent on a map and traveling it, were two entirely different things. He’d been unprepared for the length of the journey. It wouldn’t be half as bad if he could stop.

“Bombarda!” Harry screamed as the last three wyrvens caught an updraft and managed to come up at his side.

“Finally,” his shoulders slumped in relief as the last of the man-eating beasties fell out of the sky. 

Even with them dispatched, he still had no desire to land and camp for the night. If he had his way, he’d never go back to Sumer, the place was cursed. 

-0-

 

“It’s like Pompeii and Hell had a baby,” he surveyed what he’d been too tired to truly see when he’d landed last evening. Oh, he’d known it was bad, but it was dark and there was some inherent creepiness. So he’d thrown up the trusty wizarding tent and warded the thing against everything before passing out.

He’d known that it was bad. Hell the place had smelled like brimstone and felt like a horcrux, but he’d been tired.

“Merlin,” he muttered as a ghost shambled toward him looking like a half melted candle. 

Ghosts, he added mentally. There were ghosts. Everywhere. Tens of thousands of ghosts. He cringed as several of them surrounded him. They were incoherent in their agony. Most screamed or cried, nothing intelligible was uttered. The cold that crept into his body as he walked through them chilled him to the bone. After a few meters, they seemed to forget he was even there and mostly stared at the sky--and screamed. 

Over the den of madness that was an entire society being burned alive in an endless cycle, one voice rose above the others nearby.

“Please Master, This man is sorry!” 

Harry’s brow furrowed at the apparition. It was a middle-aged man wearing rags, who looked like he’d been half eaten by something large. His guts hung out to the ground as he sobbed. The--slave, continued to jibber in a bastard tongue of Latin. He begged and pleaded without stop, to a Master long gone--please--please--please. 

He averted his eyes and rubbed his arms, this place was worse than Sumer. 

“Maybe the whole damn planet is cursed?” He wondered aloud.

Several dome-topped towers still stood in the distance. He apparated over a canal of bubbling lava and shuffled through the ankle-deep ash, toward the closest building. He found it strange that not only was the tower still structurally sound but the intricately carved wooden door, was intact and very much closed. 

The overbearing sense of wrongness here made it all but impossible to detect what might be protecting the tower. After casting a ward detection, his eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. Dark sacrificial blood wards practically bathed the place in a miasma of evil.

“Who the hell lived here, Satan?” He grumbled.

Summoning a ward hammer from his mokeskin, he sat the deceptively small stone down in front of the door and channeled power into it. He knew this would work if only because the caster was obviously dead, he hoped. 

Sweat beaded his forehead as he sent pulse after pulse of magic into the stone. Eventually, the door cracked right down the middle and fell inside. A cloud of heavy dust rushed from the inside, catching him in the face before he could cast a bubblehead. After cleaning his face off, he cast the charm and breathed deeply, wanting to kick himself for not having done that already. The air was probably full of toxins and he was just walking around like a dullard.

A skeleton guarded the room from a chair in the corner. It was wearing full plate and had a still gleaming sword at its feet. The armor and sword were nice and of obvious magical origin. After checking to see if the armor was as evil as the wards, he was relieved to find they were merely enchanted to withstand damage and the blade to be ever sharp. 

“Finder’s Keepers,” he taunted the possibly ex-evil dead man and added the armor and sword to the mokeskin.

He heard the crying before he ever stepped foot into the next room. An open unprotected window that he’d not noticed, brought enough light into the room for him to clearly see all the child-sized skeletons that were chained to the wall. An ethereal girl with black hair and faded blue eyes rocked on the floor before the largest of the skeletons, eyes trained on the window.

“Boash, this worthless soul begs, free a girl from these chains!” 

After the girl would say the words, her eyes would widen, staring at some unseen horror and she would scream as her face atomized, only to reform begging all over again. 

Harry cursed and headed back outside, hoping to find more treasure and less nasty. He’d never exorcized a ghost or cleansed an area corrupted by dark magics before, but he was beginning to think he should pick the practice up here. Ghosts on Earth were actual souls, unable to move on. 

“Dear God above, please let these things just be imprints of the dead,” he whispered as the ash swirled up around his legs.

The next tower he encountered didn’t have evil dripping from its pores, but it was also halved. Still, the bottom few levels looked stable. Inside he found that whatever protections it had, completely failed. Every room was full of ash and the mummified remains of a family still huddled together in a stone embrace. 

An hour later found him rummaging through a one-storied building, the only one of its kind in the ruined city. It was larger than the rest and had almost a Romanesque look about it. Tall marble stairs led to the column-lined front. The doublewide door was warded like the tower had been, but intensified. The ward hammer failed to bring the blood wards down. Either the caster still lived or--he didn’t even want to think of how many lives would need to be sacrificed for it to still be so strong past the casters death. Hope for thievery wasn’t lost however, most magicals were stupid.

He’d learned the stone cutting charm from Bill one day when the older man had been ranting about being stuck in a tomb surrounded by deadly curses and an anti-apparition ward. A tiny stream of super hot fire shot from his wand like a laser, cutting the stone around the doorway in an instant. As soon as his wand had traced around the entire doorway, it fell in a clatter to the entrance hall beyond.

Harry whistled in appreciation. This must have been a government building or the ruler's palace. There were still statues and artwork bandied about the room. A mural of dragons fighting stretched across the whole ceiling in glinting pieces of precious stones. 

“For me? Oh, no. I couldn’t,” he held his hand to his chest and cackled, “Of course I could,” one by one the pieces of art shrank and joined the armor inside the mokeskin. 

Hours later found him muttering about lunatics while he read through a book of Valyrian history. The Freehold, what a load of shite, he thought with derision. They enslaved people by the tens of thousands and used them in dark rituals, well those that weren’t being useful. Like the elderly, the sick and the runners. 

He flipped through a ledger of guilds and their taxes. In the list, he found a Pyromancer’s guild, but the address made no sense, First Flame.

Tossing the book into the mokeskin with all the others, he finished looting the building and headed back out. 

It had been a good day for plundering. He had enough gold, jewels and various sundry to live a comfortable life in this shit hole planet. If he could ever find the living. 

As he left the palace, he saw the remains of the dockyard on the far side of the city. There appeared to be several shipwrecks in the bay. He wondered if any of the ships had loot worth stealing and apparated as close as he could get.

“The Misty Maiden,” he read on the side of the galley.

Weird statues of sailors stood on the deck as though they‘d been posed. Narrowing his eyes at the gray captain behind the wheel, he flinched back in surprise when the--man, twitched. 

“Holy shit!” He leapt back as the thing took an unsteady step toward him.

Harry lopped off its head with a well placed Diffindo before turning his attention to the other--statues. They remained still, but he sent cutters at all of them as well. A closer inspection of the body had him scratching his head. It looked like a cross between Scrofungulus and Dragon Pox. Either way, he had no intention of touching any of the bodies.

Carefully making his way toward the hull, he found it full of loot, much to his delight. Whatever had befallen this crew, it had been after they had already plundered the city. Trunks were full of coins and bars of precious metals. Bags of uncut gems. Six dragon eggs, somewhere Hagrid was weeping in joy. 

Picking up one of the eggs, he expected it to be cool to the touch and stone like. The surface was warm though and the whole thing fairly thrummed with magic. Thankfully, the eggs just felt like good old regular magic and not the taint outside. He placed each one carefully into the mokeskin with a small promise to the creatures, not to leave them in there over long.

After finding such a bounty on one ship, Harry popped around to the others. He found more swords, coins, and several more eggs on the six closest wrecks. 

“Point me First Flame,” the wand spun in his hand and stopped, pointing directly at the largest active volcano.

Using the Firebolt and liberal cooling and flame freezing charms, he dodged the lava bubbles and flew into the heart of Mordor. Wrong--so wrong, evil, his mind corrected. Harry gagged fighting against nausea that ripped through him as he got closer to the source. 

Circling down around the base, he found a large man-made tunnel lined with obsidian tiles, glowing red hot and orange. He flew in the very center careful not to touch the walls. The heat was immense even with his body layered with flame freezing charms. Blood runes were scratched into the walls deeper within. They lacked the grace of everything Valyrian. For all their flaws, theirs was a beautiful culture, full of beautiful things. 

The script was unknown to him, but he felt its purpose. It burned them all and cursed their blood kin. Something pulsed ahead of him and pushed him into the wall. Searing pain ripped through his arm as it burned under his armor. Harry jerked away and bent the arm, it would hold but the sooner he left the better.

“Blood of my blood,” someone hissed.

As Harry rounded the next corner, space opened up into a ritual chamber. In the center was a vibrant pool of churning lava. Atop it, floating as though it were water, was a blackened skeleton. 

“Blood of my blood, burn as I burn,” 

Harry twisted out of the way just in time to avoid being flung into another wall. Snarling he rounded on the ghost chanting in the shadowy corners behind him. Dressed in red, the man’s eyes glowed an ominous poison yellow from beneath the overlarge hood. He held a hand out toward Harry, dripping with blood and squeezed it into a fist.

“Blood of my Blood, burn as I burn.” 

“I’m higher on the familial food chain asshole. It’d be the other way around,” Harry taunted hoping to break this repeating madness. 

“Lies. All who enter here are of the Blood.”

“Your people were seeded by my people,” Harry quirked a brow. Despite the seriousness of the situation he was tempted to tell the man to kneel before Zod. 

“You are of MY blood and I am offended by what you’ve done,” Harry continued as he sought out any talisman or anchors nearby. 

“Our blood is corrupt, we must burn,” The man offered. 

“You killed them all to a man. Even the babes and dragons. Nothing is left but you and I,” Harry stated without sympathy. 

The man began to chant again and ignored him. Harry summoned the blackened bones from the lava pool and sat them on the tile floor below him. The ghost screeched and send another blast at him. Harry dodged but not fast enough to avoid being clipped in the shoulder. He spun back and his hair caught fire as it brushed the wall. With a curse, he extinguished the flames and glared.

He tried to vanish the bones, but several blood red runes had been carved into them, they pulsed and glowed with power, even the skull. Sweet mother of Merlin, how had he managed that and lived long enough to jump in the lava. 

“Why won’t you burn!” 

There were two items he had never summoned out of the Mokeskin. He’d never even handled them while wearing Death’s Cloak. It was too much of a taboo for him. There was the horrible whisper in the back of his mind, what if the legends are real? He’d died after all and came back. 

Holding the resurrection stone in one hand and the death stick in the other, he pushed power into the stone and tossed it into the air three times, “I Call on Death.”

A hissing rattle echoed in the chamber as an impossibly tall cloaked being, formed on the opposite side of the lava. It ran its eyes around the walls and sneered at the ghost before its fathomless black eyes landed on Harry.

“Why have you called me here?”

“I cannot kill what is already dead. This place is cursed, these souls need to be removed,” Harry offered plainly. 

“This is not my world, or yours, Master,” Death added the last with clear annoyance. 

Harry blinked and shook his head, “Each planet has its own Death? That hardly seems right.”

The being chuckled, “No. Each universe has its own Death, as you say. We are in a divergent universe. Thus, this is not your world, or mine, as much as anything is,” it shrugged.

“That--that can’t be right. Adam said that his people created a portal to travel to other planets,” Harry muttered and glanced to the right finally remembering the vengeful spirit. It was frozen, open-mouthed staring at Death. Well, some good came of it anyway.

Death tilted its head and sucked in a breath, almost tasting the world, “Yes. But, what did Adam say about the magical Archway, hmm?”

“It was unstable and thirty thousand years had passed instead of three.”

Death nodded, “It did more than that,” it spoke and chuckled darkly, “It shredded the walls of reality and opened everything.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What effect did that have?”

A rasping cackled made the hairs stand up on his arms. 

“It weakened a version of me, enough to be chained by something far to the north. Another Hallow, a dagger,” it rambled as its eyes closed and its head tilted back, “Things still die here, of course. All men must die. But,” it pointed at the spirit, “Anything that needs culling remains. Death is dead,” it bellowed in laughter as though it were deeply amused. 

“Could you,” Harry’s eyes shot over the ghost, “Do you think, er--maybe cull that one?” Harry stumbled through the request.

“It can be done,” Death rattled.

“Er, will you cull that one, please?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Your word. You will never call on me again,” It demanded.

“Not ever,” Harry agreed.

With a wave of Death’s hand, the ghost and its skeleton vanished from this world, “It is done.”

Harry blinked and found himself alone in the chamber. With the talisman gone, he was able to begin removing the blood runes that ran along the walls. 

-0-

As the sun rose, it lifted much of the darkness with it. The screams died down to a whimper. Harry walked the crumbling streets aside an ethereal stag, a constant prayer incessant and clear. He prayed for peace, for life and balance. 

The ex-slave tore his eyes away from the angry mouth of his master’s snarling dragon. Ignored the agony that had plagued him for centuries and closed his eyes, never noticing his wounds heal, or his body grow brighter, lighter and free. Ashes swirled as the man faded away, a smile on his face.

-0-

 

Disillusioned, he flew along the coast of the broken peninsula toward the point at which it joined the continent. He’d conferred between the Sumerian map and that of the Valyrian Freehold. They were of course, vastly different. After all, eight thousand years is a long time and Adam hadn’t been a seer. If he had, he could have told those sheepherders not to leave because their spawn would turn into evil incarnate.

Trusting the validity of the Valyrian map was just as iffy. He had no way of knowing when the civilization had fallen. 

He’d decided to skip Yi-Ti and Asshai, and headed straight for the road that was supposed to run along the coast, connecting all the free cities. 

More ruins, not altogether surprising. There was something about the area that was off though, and as night fell, he decided against landing and setting up camp. In the quiet of the night, as he flew on, he heard growling below him. Harry had been keeping low to the ground, to stay in sight of the road. He was getting tired and hadn’t wanted to get lost. 

The last thing he’d expected to nearly run into, was ghouls. Jerking up on the handle he avoided the swipe of one rotten hand, just making it around the pack. Strange that they’d be here and not in a cemetery. Perhaps, they’d been drawn to the area with all the death on the Valyrian Peninsula? 

Part of him wanted to fly on and not look back, but he kept thinking about what might happen to non-magical travelers. Eaten in their sleep, he shuttered. Conjuring a whip of fire, he flew in a pass and lobbed heads and limbs as he rocketed past. It took four passes to kill all of them. With all of the ghouls dead, he landed and checked the area with a Hominum. With no humanoids revealed, he set up the tent and warded it. 

-0-

 

On Adam’s map, there had been a freshwater great lake from a mile inland on. The reality was a desert full of strange red sand. There was little doubt that one of Adam’s Wonders, was gone. He’d described it as a place of great beauty. A place of magic and learning that sat atop a hill, on the island in the middle of the lake. 

He tried to imagine seeing the grounds of Hogwarts in such a state and it brought tears to his eyes. Casting his magic out, he found the remains of a dark curse. It felt like magic from Earth, which pretty much made it Sumerian. Picking up a handful of the red grains, he checked it for curses and got what felt like a thousand returns, but that couldn’t be right. Letting the sand fall back to the ground, he summoned a single grain and cast again. 

Harry gasped in horrified understanding. The curse had pulled the water from the bodies of anything living and then turned the dried out husks--into the sand. The cursed red sand, in turn, evaporated any water. It killed everything living, Harry doubted that there were even bacteria left. It was lucky the magic had mostly broken down. 

Pointing his wand at a section of the sand, he transfigured a clump of it into a rock. He pulled magic up from deep within the planet and forced the rock to grow and shift and change. Stone flowed into water, that he, in turn, cursed to convert any of the red sand into water. He panted at the end of his working and wiped the sweat from his brow, watching the quickly growing pool as his curse overtook the sand.

Wiping at his eyes, he hopped back on the broom and headed toward the closest city.

In the early evening, he saw the port city, almost hanging like a heavy mirage in the muggy, wet air. A massive bridge crossed the entire bay. As he got closer, he saw carvings of manticores, dragons--even a sphinx. He idly wondered if any of those creatures were still alive here. 

The roadway was crowded and lined on either side with stores of every kind. Everything smelled like fish and warm armpits. His nose scrunched up when a painted lady strutted past. 

Placing a mild notice me not charm on himself, he landed. After pocketing the broom and dropping his disillusionment, he made his way down the crowded road carefully releasing the notice me not. 

He understood this language and had coin in his pocket. With that in mind, he headed into a shop that sold spices.

-0-

Volantis ended up being as disgusting as Valyria, minus the poison water and ghosts. Slavery was still prevalent and all the nobility hid behind a giant wall. For the most part, he was vastly unimpressed and quickly decided to move on. If he was to make a life in this world, it wouldn’t be here. 

Of course, if he was being honest, it was also a bit too hot to seriously consider permanent residency.

-0-

 

His adventures in Lys, Tyrosh, Myr, and Pentos felt like one long blur. Whores and pirates, everywhere. Oh, and a barbarian race called the Dothraki that rape and pillage across the countryside, but that no one ever does anything about. Lovely, that.

It wasn’t until he got to Braavos that he actually stayed longer than one day. The city was spread across several small islands connected by an intricate bridge network and canals. The seedier aspects were there just as they had been in the other cities, but there was just something about Braavos that Harry liked. 

He probably would have made it his home, if he hadn’t met No One. 

Really he’d been behaving, minding his own business and studying Adam’s map. Making plans for the route he’d take once he crossed the narrow sea. While he was lost in his own mind, a man sat down next to him at the table he’d procured. The food was good in this city and much as he loved Molly’s cooking, he was getting a bit tired of it. So, every day he’d tried a different establishment.

Tracing his finger along the coast, he jumped when the man leaned in close over the map. Entirely too close for comfort and said,

“This man has never seen a completed map of Sothoryos.”

Pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Harry quirked a brow at the man. He was certainly a strange looking character. He had scars carved all the way around his face like it had been cut off. His dark brown skin had raised patterns on the cheeks and bright gray eyes that stood out in stark relief against the color of his complexion.

“Er, didn’t know it was called Sothoryos here,” he offered nervously.

The man felt dangerous, but not necessarily evil. There was something magical about him, something that Harry couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Sothoryos is Sothoryos everywhere friend,” the man replied with a smirk.

“Sumer,” Harry corrected.

“A man has never heard of it being referred to as such,” another smirk that was aided by an actual twinkle in his eyes.

Harry shrugged, “The Sumerians are mostly dead, but that was its name thirty thousand years ago, friend,” Harry returned the smirk and gave the man a quirked brow.

The man pursed his lips in thought, as though weighing the truth of his words. In the end, he looked a bit rattled at the idea.

“This man wonders if you are Sumerian?”

In a roundabout way, he was. Without being able to explain, he simply said that he was. 

“That was both the truth and a lie,” the man narrowed those steely eyes in contemplation.

He thought about trying to read the strangers mind but decided not to, in the off chance he was magical, “Can you always tell when someone is lying? That must be awfully useful.”

“Indeed, a man can,” he said and shrugged.

“Two more, yeah?” Harry motioned to the girl serving. She dropped off two mugs of ale and Harry slid one over to the man.

“I’m Harry by the way. What’s your name?” He questioned hoping to end the third person portion of their conversation. 

“A man has no name. He is No One,” another smirk before taking a long draw from the mug.

Harry mouthed the response back, No One. 

“And where is No One from?” Harry smiled around the cup.

A plate clattered to the floor as the serving girl overheard him and dropped a dish. The look of fright on her face was very real. She was terrified of the man sat next to him. 

“The House of Black and White.”

The girl whimpered as she scrubbed quickly at the floor. Harry glanced down at her, sympathetic but still deeply amused. 

“I don’t know what that is, sorry,” he shook his head and saw the girl’s eyes widen even further.

“The truth.” Was the man’s reply.

At Harry’s blank look he gave a vague answer about serving the many faced God. Harry looked at the scars around the man’s face again and wondered if they were intentional. Six cups of ale had him asking, “Is that why you have the scar all along--” he motioned a finger around the edge of his own face.

For once the other man looked surprised and not a little bit angry.

“What?”

“How is it that you can see those when no other can?” The man asked.

“Er,” Harry blinked and shook his head. Damn the man was probably wearing a glamour or something.

He took off his glasses and jerked back in surprise. Sitting next to him was a roguish looking fellow with long red and white striped hair. Rather than explain, he handed his glasses to the man. He’d long since had his vision corrected, but wore enchanted lenses that allowed him to see through deceptive magic. He’d gotten the idea from Albus, who always knew where the cloak was.

The man placed the glasses on his own face and Harry chuckled at his expression. Harry hadn’t bothered wearing clothes to fit in, instead, he had cast his own glamour. Rather than the trousers and a simple shirt that he appeared to be wearing, in actuality, Harry was donned in Dragonhide and heavily armed.

“A man understands, but wonders why you‘re dressed for battle,” the man nodded in astonishment and handed the glasses back.

Harry scoffed and shook his head, “You have no idea the horrible things I’ve seen in the last two weeks.”

Another smirk and Harry was prompted to continue. He told a tale about the deadly plant and animals in Sumer. Of having to escape the continent by air and then being hunted by Wyrvens. The evil in the smoking sea and the convergence of the dead that continued to haunt it. He spoke of ghouls that had been transformed by their own desire to eat human flesh.

“Truth.” The man said with quiet horror.

Harry nodded, “I wanted to help them. Death should be a release, not--that. Never that.”

No One’s eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly. The man looked close to panic as he murmured, “Just so.”

“Children begging for different Gods, some for Death itself. Entire families huddled near their mummified remains, so terrified that they couldn‘t understand anything beyond their pain.” Harry swiped at his eyes.

“Sorry mate, it was the most traumatic thing I’ve ever witnessed and that’s saying something given my work.” Harry sobered enough to get control of his emotions and motioned for the girl, “Two more, yeah?”

Sliding the drink over to his new friend No One, he finally noticed the stunned and horrified look on the man’s face, “You alright?”

The man gave a small negligent nod and drank deep from the cup, emptying it in two swallows. 

“This man must go.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at the man’s sudden desire to leave but shrugged it off. No One thanked him for the drink and said that he was sure they’d cross paths again. 

-0-

Harry went to the same tavern the next day for lunch and saw the serving girl from the night before. Whatever had spooked her so badly, it seemed to have carried over as the woman was reluctant to come to his table.

“What’s the House of Black and White?”

She frowned and checked around them before leaning in to whisper, “A guild of assassins that worship the God of many faces.”

At Harry’s blank look the woman muttered, “Death.”

There seemed to be a reoccurring theme on this next great adventure of his. Death. He shook his head and thought back to his conversation with No One. He hadn’t seemed like a bad man, but lately, Harry had been questioning his own ranking on the scale of good and evil. 

After Hogwarts, he’d gone into the Auror academy and then worked as an Auror for five years. They were quick to promote him and in no time, Harry had ended up a department head. Awesome in theory, boring paperwork in practice. He had wanted the chase and adventure. 

For two years, before being accepted for transfer into the Department of Mysteries, Harry had worked as a Hit Wizard. Only Kingsly and Croaker had known about it. Five contracts to kill, five paychecks. It hadn’t bothered him overmuch. Because of that, he was having a hard time imagining himself to be a better person, than No One. Still, worshiping Death, that was a new one. He shouldn’t have been sidetracked so easily by something that was obviously common knowledge, it was sloppy. Today he’d need to lay off the ale and educate himself on the history here.

Later that afternoon as he walked past the street of steel, a skinny girl with scars around her face, tried to sell him clams. She smiled and spoke cordially. Harry knew though, that this girl was like, No One.

“Did No One tell you to approach me?” He questioned her and dropped his wand into his hand. 

She stumbled away caught off guard by him.

“No?” He said and stepped forward, “A job then? I should warn you, many others have tried.”

The girl snarled, “Your name was not given!”

He watched her storm away and fought the urge to chase her down. A child assassin. 

After that day, he saw the faceless men everywhere. If he was in an eatery, one was a server. Another would shadow his steps. For all that they seemed to lack personal monikers, their personalities greatly differed. The more they stalked him, the more he returned the favor.

They might be able to change faces, but Harry could be invisible, silent and even remove his scent.

The girl was cruel and vicious. She carried small sharp blades that were better for carving than stabbing. A sadist that enjoyed the suffering of others when it fit into her worldview. She greatly enjoyed punishing men of a certain sort. Held herself like a thing that’d been broken and taped together, wrong but still functional.

His original No One was kind and had a sense of humor, but arrogant. Harry suspected he‘d been a slave before assassin hood. The Lorathi accent was as fake as the many faces he wore. There was a sense of age the others lacked, Harry knew somehow, that No One was much older than he seemed. Perhaps it was magical in nature, after all, He’d be forty-six this year and looked twenty-something.

The handsome man was the easiest to peg. Nobility of some kind, privileged childhood, came from old money or the equivalent here. He didn’t seem as pious as the others, more that it was a job. In total there were only ten of them. 

Despite the fact that they used blood magic for their masks, none of them could tell when he broke into their temple. No wards, no protections, nothing. The place was more mausoleum than anything and everyone that came to die here wanted it. There were no anguished spirits prowling the halls.

 

-0-

Walking along the docks, he’d checked in with the Master and gotten a good idea of which ships were headed to Westeros. He picked the ship bound for Kings Landing. The captain was a portly fellow with blue hair and a forked beard to match. Harry was sure he wouldn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him, but there was no way he wanted another day-long broom ride over an ocean.

He paid extra to have a cabin to himself and warded the door against everyone. That should have been enough to see him safely through the trip. The third day of travel loud shouting from the deck had Harry rushing forward. Another ship was approaching, flying the Kracken sigil which he’d learned meant Ironborn. Or, pirates that were confused and thought they were nobility as he called them in his head.

“Fire the arrows, kill those Iron scum!” The Captain shouted as a long plank was dropped onto the deck. The Ironborn began to rush the plank and swing over on hooked ropes, attacking the sailors. 

Irritated that these pirates had interrupted his travel plans, Harry pointed his finger at an approaching pirate and relieved his head from his body with a quickly cast severing charm. 

He took out ten in the same fashion before either set of men realized what he was doing. For a second Harry didn’t know if the sailors were going to turn on him as well. They all just stared at him in alarm. Then the sailor standing next to him took an arrow in the chest and the fighting started again in earnest. 

After shielding himself, Harry apparated over to the deck of the Ironborn vessel and vanished the plank. Cutting the ropes loose the two ships began to drift apart from one another, while both captains were too busy shouting orders to notice. The captain of the Ironborn finally saw him and ran with his sword drawn. It was nearly unfair to the pirates how easy it was to kill them. 

Harry finished off the rest of the crew after he’d killed the captain and relieved his body of a very nice red sword. Making his way into the hull, he was astounded at the sheer amount of loot. It was as though they’d been hoarding for years. With a wicked smile, he sent it all into the mokeskin.

He vanished the bodies and cleaned the desk, before remembering the sailors. They stood on the opposite deck, all staring over at him in various states of shock. It was clear they had won their fight as well. To say he felt a little unwelcome to come back aboard was an understatement.

Tapping a finger to his throat, he amplified his voice, “You know what? I kinda like this ship. Think I’ll keep it. You all go on,” he waved them on.

A gust of wind caught their sails and pushed them away. 

“Probably oughta do something about that,” he muttered glaring up at the Kracken sigils and Ironborn sails. 

Pointing his wand at the fabric, he charmed it to morph into the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Several improvements went into his new ship. Its now impervious hull could run into an iceberg and win. The sails would always find the wind and the oars could row themselves. Now if only he knew how to navigate the sea.

“Argh!” Harry chuckled as he thumped around the deck with a conjured parrot on his shoulder.

His light-hearted play would end when Harry finally noticed a thumping noise coming from below deck. Holding his wand out in front of him, Harry traveled to the door beneath the foredeck. It was the only place he’d not investigated. He suspected it had been the captain’s personal quarters and hadn’t yet bothered with it. Inside he found two rooms. In the first and closest to the door were what was expected. Hand drawn maps and scrolls, a chest or two with petty cash for supplies and the like. Passing through with only a cursory glance, Harry found himself in the captain's bedroom. 

The sound that he’d heard on deck now made so much more sense. He winced at the sight of her. The woman was manacled and chained. Her naked body was littered with bite marks and there were hand-shaped bruises on her hips. 

Every time she would jerk one of her arms, the chain would thump against the wall. 

Harry took a step toward her and she froze. Chained as she was, the woman couldn’t see behind her. Her body began to tremble as he approached. 

“It’s alright. The Ironborn are all dead. I killed the captain,” Harry said and placed his hands on the locks.

The locks holding the chains to the wall all clicked and fell away from her. She turned and backed away breathing harshly as her eyes fluttered.

“Hey now, it’s alright. . .” Harry trailed off as her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed onto the ground.

-0-

Daenora woke comfortable, warm and without pain for the first time in months since this entire nightmare had begun. A cursory glance of the room proved it to be the captains quarters though they’d been cleaned and the chains were mercifully missing. 

Sitting up she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rejoiced in her ability to sit without pain, something that hadn’t been possible since before the birth of her son. Her son. Maegor. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of him. 

She’d been betrothed to her cousin, the crown prince, at birth. Aerion had shown the wrong side of a coin flip early on. She’d desperately wanted to avoid her marriage, but had little choice. She’d done her duty to her family and married the monster. Laid beneath him for the two years it took for his seed to find purchase and birthed a single perfect son. Daenora had almost expected the child to come out of her womb with horns, but he’d been beautiful and perfect. 

Dead. All because of his insane father. After Aerion had drunk Wildfire, her world had devolved quickly. They’d been shunted away in the Vale with her mother’s family. All while the realm held a great council to decided succession. It hadn’t been surprising when cousin Aegon was chosen above her son. He wasn’t an easily influenced infant and already had issue. Still, it had stung, worse yet when they’d been all but exiled. 

She’d agreed to take Maegor to Lys and live out their lives there peacefully, only for their ship to be set upon by the Ironborn. The filthy bastards had killed everyone aboard but her, including her infant son. Smashed his head open like a fruit and threw his tiny body overboard. An offering to their Drowned God. A sob escaped her at the thought of his ruined body slipping beneath the waters. 

“Hello?”

She jerked and turned large fearful eyes toward the closed door and the man’s voice that had come from the other side. 

“Are you awake?” the man asked.

Daenora’s heart beat fiercely in her chest as she managed to choke out, “Yes.”

The man that entered the cabin wasn’t much taller than her, nor was he heavily muscled though she knew that a man’s looks could be deceiving in that fashion. There was something about him though that spoke of power, a confidence that wasn’t arrogance. He had wavy black hair and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, brighter than any Lannister. 

“I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m Harry, er. . . I uh. . . Found you in here after I’d taken over the ship. I’m not much of a healer but I gave you a few potions. Are you feeling alright?” He asked in an awkward stammer that was endearing.

For the first time in remembered history, Daenora smiled, “I feel better than I have in a long time, thank you.”

He smiled at her and nodded toward the door, “There’s some food and drink set up in the other room if you’re hungry?”

She nodded and followed this Harry into the other room. On the long wooden table sat a feast. All fresh and warm, filling the air with the aroma making her stomach growl. Two spots of pink colored her cheeks at the strength of the sound. 

“Please,” Harry said and motioned for her to sit.

“I need to return to the deck, eat your fill and join me above if you’d like,” he said and left after she’d nodded.

 

-0-

Harry had spent the past weeks getting to know Daenora as the ship continued its slow progress towards Kings Landing. While the ship might have been enchanted enough to sail on with a crew of two, it still hadn’t been easy. This had the effect of allowing them time to learn about one another. 

It had come as quite a shock to find out that the woman was a princess. Her story had not been a kind tale. Married to an insane cousin, who’d taken immense joy in cruelty to both her and others. Her description of their time together was nothing short of horrific. Bound to her cousin at twelve and raped repeatedly for years, only for the child to be cast aside and herself exiled. Now at sixteen, she was a survivor of more horror than anyone he’d ever met and a widow to boot. 

Still, it was her idea to return to her family. Daenora was convinced that her cousin, King Aegon, would take her in now that there would be no rebellion or reprisals around her son Maegor. With his death, there was no need for her to continue to Lys. She assured him that Aegon was nothing like his brother Aerion had been. Harry hoped the woman was right for her sake if nothing else and had promised to take her with him on his journey north, should the worse come to pass.

In turn, Daenora, had been mesmerized by his tale of being from some long lost civilization in Sothoryos. Sticking with the story he’d told thus far, Harry had said that he was Sumerian and that his people were insular--what few remained. The area he claimed to hail from was beyond the reach of anyone in Westeros or Essos. So there would never be a way to confirm the story or prove it false.

His surname had given her fits though and Daenora had a hard time accepting that Potter could mean anything other than a peasant that makes pottery. Because of this, she’d implored him to go under the guise of another, one that could pass for Sumerian nobility. While thinking of what name to use, Harry had thought about all the encounters with death since his arrival and settled on Peverell. 

-0-

They’d had to wait in line for court alongside all the other petitioners. Harry stood apart from them with his dragonhide armor and weapons. The valyrian long sword strapped to his back had been of particular interest. 

Daenora had trembled with nerves when the court scribe had called out, “Daenora Targaryen and Harold Peverell, Your Grace.”

Harry’s lip twitched at the address as he knelt before the king of Westeros.

“Daenora, you were to go to Lys,” the king chided in a cool voice and asked why she was there.

She began to weave her tale as the court all leaned in enraptured by her story. Some of the ladies began to openly weep when Daenora spoke of her son's murder at the hands of the Ironborn. Harry himself was openly appraised by them in turn, once Daenora named him her savior. 

“What proof of this is there Your Grace? She could be hiding the child!”

King Aegon glared at his hand for speaking out of turn, but grimaced and asked, “Is there proof of what you say?”

“Permission to speak Your Grace?” Harry asked.

“You may,” the king offered.

Harry gave his own account of purchasing a cabin on the Tyroshi vessel that had been headed for Westeros and of their attack. 

“During the fighting, I alone ran across the gangplank and cut the ropes as the Tyroshi sailors were being overpowered. Once the ships began to drift apart, I killed the Ironborn captain and took control of their ship. It was then that I found her, chained in the captains quarters. Aside from my word that this is true, I would gift you the captain's sword and pray that would be enough,” he said and unsheathed the red valyrian sword.

The Kings Guard all tensed even as Harry walked forward and knelt at the king's feet, holding the sword up for him with both hands in offering.

“Red Rain,” Aegon said appreciatively as he accepted the blade and began to turn it in his hands admiring it.

“I will see that House Drumm pays for this slight cousin,” the king said and moved to hand the sword back to Harry.

Harry held his hands up and said, “A gift for your family, Your Grace. I already have an ancestral blade.”

“You would gift valyrian steel for nothing more than favor?” King Aegon asked.

Harry shook his head, “Daenora said that your families blade was lost to the Blackfyres and as I said,” he pulled the sword of Gryffindor from his other side, “I have my own sword. This blade has been in my family for over a millennium.”

Truthfully Harry had no idea if his ancestors had ever mixed with the Gryffindor’s but ever since he’d pulled it out of the sorting hat, it always came when he called it. 

The golden ruby hilted blade garnered much appreciation by all close enough to look upon it, “It’s a beautiful sword Ser Harold.” 

“It’s just Harold Peverell, Your Grace, my people don’t have knights,” Harry offered sheepishly and asked for permission to rise and join Daenora.

He answered the king’s questions as best as he could, giving the same story he’d told to Daenora. The court ate it up, especially after he’d given their king a sword of great worth. Daenora had said that valyrian swords were so rare now that they sold for tens of thousands of gold dragons. 

-0-

Several families had died out in the great spring sickness a little more than a decade previous, because of this, there were several empty holdfasts and manses in the Crownlands. Harry didn’t really want something in the city, the place smelled like a septic tank, but he did think it might be interesting to have a home base. Somewhere he could apparate from without worry and a place to store his growing hoard. Not to mention grow some food he didn’t have to worry about.

When he’d inquired about purchasing a home, Harry had been amused to find an extant House of Black on the list. The House of Black had been vassals of the Targaryens but died out when the last of them succumbed to the Spring sickness. Theirs was a small holdfast, only twenty acres or so with a single tower and a small stone wall. 

The crown charged him a thousand gold dragons for the right to call the place home. He suspected the price was higher because he was both a foreigner and of questionable heraldry. Not that it mattered, Harry had amassed more gold on his journey than he could ever hope to spend. It also cost him nothing to swear fealty to King Aegon. There was no law that would keep him from moving should it prove unwise to have done so. 

While Daenora was busy reconnecting with her kin and trying to get her life back in order, Harry hired stone masons and builders to completely change his holdfast. She often sent him letters via messenger much to her families chagrin as there had already been talk of using her to make another match. A fact that had not pleased her one bit. 

The tower was torn down along with the stone fencing and a new castle and wall were built in their place. He’d brought in as many men as could be hired, even some of the unfortunates from Fleabottom to help with the stone. In the evenings Harry would help the project along with his magic. Helping set the largest of the foundation stones and transport beams that otherwise would have added much time to the build. Because of this Peverell castle sprang up quickly. The entire project having been completed in just under two years. A marvel for its age.

There were four towers connected by walls around a courtyard. A thirty-foot skirt wall surrounded the entire property. It was all fairly modest for a noble in this age, having only seven bedrooms. Though unlike any of its contemporaries, Harry’s castle had running water and a septic tank, that thanks to magic would never need to be emptied. 

On the grounds behind the wall, he built a massive greenhouse and planted an orchard filled with many kinds of fruit and nuts. There were also spaces for tilled gardens and a chicken coop. 

Thanks to his continued friendship with Luna, there would never be a need for more land, as both the greenhouse and the stone barn had been expanded with the Scamander family expansion charms. 

The stone barn would actually work as an independent habitat for the cows he’d purchased. 

-0-

Life had settled into domesticity as Harry ironed out the kinks of running a magical medieval estate. Housing was built on the farthest wall away from the castle. The Smallfolk he’d brought in from Fleabottom had loved the apartments. Every single man, woman, and child that Harry took in was sworn to him with magic, ensuring their loyalty. These people were downtrodden and more than grateful, still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Most of them had reacted well to his magic and the use of it on the farm. The few that hadn’t, well. . . . Harry had Obliviated them and sent them back to the city.

In no time at all, there were enough of them living on his land to make the farm thrive. Enough for them to feed Harry, themselves, have a stockpile and begin to consider selling extra in the city. Though Harry was tossing around the idea of actually making a product.

-0-

His line of Sumerian products had just begun to be sold in the city when the Blackfyres once more tried to rebel against the crown and invaded Massey’s Hook. That vow of fealty came around to kick him in the ass, as Harry was called into service of the King’s army. 

Harry rode to war with the levies from house Rosby as they were the closest of his neighbors. It was inevitable that several saw use of his magic, as Harry, just wasn’t a strong enough swordsman to rely on the skill to both keep him alive and drive the enemy fighters back. 

The Golden Company had surprised him with their use of elephants. Cutting through entire swathes of untrained levies like a hot knife through butter. Harry had been forced to eliminate four of the beasts while the king’s army drove their main forces back to BitterBridge. Since there were known Pyromancers he stuck to the use of fire spells. Whips and wide area of effects mostly that wouldn’t stand out as impossible. 

Many in the Golden Company had confused Harry for a follower of the lord of the light. More than once he’d heard the battle cries of, “Kill the Priest!”

In the end, House Rosby was decimated to a man and most of their levies with them, though the Kings army had fared much better. Mostly because they weren’t dealing with elephants. 

-0-

Publicly Harry had been knighted, his house raised into the status of minor nobility. Privately he’d been summoned to discuss his use and ability with magic. 

Harry shrugged, “All Sumerians have magic.”

King Aegon blinked at that statement. The only other person in the room was Ser Duncan the tall, the king’s personal friend and commander of the King’s Guard. Ser Duncan looked skeptical, to say the least. 

“What can your people do with sorcery?” The King asked.

Harry was leery of an honest answer and hedged, “There are laws. Some because the act is impossible, others because they are morally reprehensible and though my people’s enforcers aren’t present--I still would not commit.”

“What is impossible and what is against your people’s laws?” Duncan asked out of honest curiosity.

“With magic all things are possible, except returning the dead to life, creating real love and the creation of food from nothing,” he offered to their shock.

“Sacrificial magic that requires something from an unwilling participant is considered unhallowed. Life is sacrosanct and we do not condone the use of others in such a way,” Harry said delicately knowing the sort of society the Targaryens had come from.

Duncan looked relieved to hear that but the king frowned and asked about dragons, even offering what he knew of past practices, in that they’d, “Traded blood for fire, or a life for a life.”

Harry shook his head and replied, “Who decides that one life is worth more or less? Dragons hatch all on their own naturally, there is no need to stain your soul.”

“The dragons are all dead, all that remains are their stone eggs,” the king said with no small amount of bitterness. 

“Here that does appear to be true, but the world is vast and goes on far beyond Sothoryos. There are most likely others in regions that are unexplored,” Harry said, knowing that to be true based on all the things he’d seen since arriving in this world.

“Could you hatch the dragons from the stone eggs?” King Aegon asked of him.

Harry thought about the warm eggs full of living hatchlings he’d taken from the ruins of Valyria and shrugged, “I’m not sure. It’s possible, I suppose, but unless I were to try, I couldn’t say with any certainty.”

King Aegon’s eyes focused on him with unnerving intensity, “Would you be willing to try?”

-0-

Aegon looked at his wife and thought about what she was proposing. He knew that it would solve some of their problems but it had the potential to create many more. Their children were all willful. With a shake of his head, he said, “Ser Harry is going to attempt to hatch the dragons. I would like to wait to see if such a thing is possible before we promise our children in matches you know that they will fight.”

Jaehaerys and Shaera were entirely too close for comfort. He knew that the Targaryen practice of incest had led to many of their problems. It had to end, but the two seemed to be deeply in love. Should they dismiss a betrothal, it would be a political disaster. 

“It would keep Jaeharys and Shaera separated,” Betha said tying once more to convince him to agree.

“And if they run off together?” Aegon asked.

Her face fell, “They wouldn’t dare.”

“They would.” He denied and once more refused her.

-0-

Harry stalked the royal family after the request had been made. He needed to know what kind of people they were. By all accounts, the king was beloved of the Smallfolk, but the nobility was beginning to show their ire. The man had passed too many laws protecting the Smallfolk in too short of time, trying to change society at the cost of the high born. It hadn’t made him popular with the people who actually made his reign possible. 

At the same time, Harry admired the king for trying to make their lives better, having come from a modern society himself. After much consideration, it was that quality that had him agreeing to the task. He might even try and help the king with the Smallfolk in such a way that the nobles weren’t affected, just because he could. 

The fact that Harry would soon be fifty and still didn’t look a day past thirty only served to remind him that he had time to do this and still travel north later on. 

-0-

The Targaryens had in their possession seven eggs. Harry took them and added one he’d found in Valyria. It was a bright gleaming white with amber veins. It was warm to the touch, more so than any of the others, but Harry knew it was because his magic was compatible with the tiny dragon inside. 

He already knew what he would name her. 

After creating a ward that absorbed and released ambient magic, Harry started a magical fire in the center and placed the eggs within it. Every day he fed them his own magic by adding to the flames and pushing more energy into the runes. 

They soaked it up like little sponges, ever eager for more. After a fashion, Harry could begin to understand why lives were exchanged as it took a great deal of magic to hatch each one. If there was one thing Harry had though, it was power, in spades. 

Two months into the ordeal, all eight eggs hatched. His white egg had cracked open to reveal a white dragon with small specks of black and bright amber eyes.

“Hello Hedwig,” Harry said and held out his hand.

The little dragon snuffled his hand and then climbed up his arm to perch on his shoulder. He felt their connection immediately just as strong as the one he’d had with her namesake had been, almost as though her soul had been reborn. 

Harry sent word for the king to come and to bring the rest of his family. 

Hedwig was once again riding around on his shoulder when the royal family showed up. 

“Father! That’s a dragon!” Prince Jaehaerys exclaimed and got a little too close to Hedwig for her liking, making her shriek.

“Careful, she isn’t fond of anyone but me,” Harry said as he led them toward the courtyard where the dragons were being kept.

He overheard an argument between the siblings about their blood and their rights. It was like listening to a Malfoy, with a sigh he turned and said, “She wasn’t born of the Targaryen’s seven eggs. I found her when I was rifling through the Freehold and decided to hatch her alongside yours.”

That shut them up briefly before he was lambasted with a thousand questions about his visit to the broken peninsula, “It was a deeply disturbing place of a great evil that had been tainted by the dark arts performed there.”

None really believed that statement he was certain, so sure they were in their ancestor's superiority, but he said it all the same. Of course this time there were dragons to distract the children from further questioning.

“All seven,” Aegon murmured.

Once it was proven that Hedwig really hadn’t been one of their eggs, the royal children quit trying to lay claim to her. Which was good because his newest familiar was already quite good at fire breathing and suffered no one.

The eggs had spent decades in the company of the Targaryens, having been placed into cribs and then carried around. Over the years they’d absorbed some of the small amounts of magic each member of the family had. It wasn’t difficult to get the hatchlings to bond with them. The king and his family left that day each in the possession of their own dragon. Harry had given them advice on how to rear them and the like and let them go on their way.

Aegon had professed his undying appreciation and mentioned that he’d be summoned soon. The way it was said made him think it might not be something Harry enjoyed.

-0-

They kept the dragons a secret until they were large enough to ride, for obvious reasons. Then on the day that it was released, Aegon had also let slip that it’d been him to do the deed. He was outed as a wizard by the king, much to his annoyance, then pressured into accepting a marriage proposal. It was suggested that it would lessen any fear the public had, that Harry had his own dragon. 

He quirked a brow at Daenora and asked, “Did you agree to this?”

She smiled and replied, “I’ve refused him six times now, but then he suggested you. A man that saved my life. Without you, I am quite sure that I would be dead by now. So yes, I agreed. If you’ll have me, I would be honored to be your wife,” she told him happy enough.

“You know that I am much older than I appear, yes?” He asked to be sure.

“I’m a twenty-year-old widow, who has been used in the worst of ways, yes?” She replied sarcastically and sneered.

He held up his hands and apologized, “I just don’t want you to feel as though you must marry me.”

-0-

The crown prince Duncan was married the next month to Laurel Baratheon rather begrudgingly after the queen continually insisted on the match. Even with the dragons, they needed to quell some of the built-up discontents amongst the noble houses. In particular their wardens. 

Jaehaerys was forced to consider a match with Celia Tully and eventually agreed, though only the king and Harry would know that the match had been aided along with magic. Harry didn’t like to influence people with his magic in such a way but deeply agreed with the king's stance on inbreeding.

Shaera too capitulated and agreed to a betrothal with Luther Tyrell. Daeron confessed to preferring the company of men and so escaped his mother’s machinations. Rhaelle was young yet but Harry knew the girl hoped she’d be able to marry for love as her own parents had.

-0-

Harry and Daenora married a month after Prince Duncan. Their wedding was held in the Red Keep and paid for by the king in thanks for services rendered. 

People came from as far away as the Basilisk isle to see their union and meet the king’s wizard. Including No One, who for once was not wearing another’s face. 

“Many have tried to pay for your death,” was No One’s greeting of choice.

“That’s a bit unsettling,” Harry replied.

“The Many Faced God would not accept any payment for his servant's death. We sent them all away,” No One offered with a smile Harry knew was supposed to put him at ease but had the opposite effect.

“I see, well. . . I’m grateful,” Harry said.

No One gave him a solemn nod and vanished into the crowd.

“You didn’t tell me that you knew a faceless man husband,” Daenora said as the man disappeared.

He shrugged helplessly, “It didn’t come up.”

-0-

Daenora found Harry’s castle and lands to be charming and insisted that they continue to live there to start their family. Even though he was starting his fifth decade of life, he still wasn’t sure that he was ready to be a father. He found the prospect rather daunting and tried to fill his time with other tasks that kept him away from her. 

Sumerian Fire Whiskey and a bastardized version of the Essence of Dittany were the results. Both items were wildly successful and served to pad their coffers.

Of course, Daenora knew what he was doing. There hadn’t been a bedding ceremony at their wedding because the bride was a widow. In fact, Harry had never visited her bed. He found her immensely attractive but arranged marriages just weren’t something that was done on Earth and he was having a hard time imagining she desired him.

Until she cornered him in the greenhouse and practically attacked him. After that, they slept in the same bed and made love every night.

Eleven months after they were wed, their son Ignatius was born. Daenora had been told the tale of the three brothers and been quite taken with it. Cadmus and Antioch were soon to follow. Harry hatched four more dragon eggs. One for Daenora and each of their sons. 

By the time all of them were old enough to walk, it was clear that they not only took after their father in looks but had inherited his abilities as well. The three grew up with the many grandchildren of King Aegon and could often be found running around the Red Keep.

As they were the chosen companions of Duncan’s heir Valarr and Jaehaerys’ son Aerys, they were rarely home. A fact that had Harry aggravated to no end as they needed training in more than swords and court politics. Oftentimes Harry himself could be found in the Red Keep giving lessons to his sons in magic. 

It was on one such visit that Harry found himself completely blindsided by his past. Standing there in the courtyard, Harry stared slack-jawed at the ethereal otter as it playfully swam in the air around him. 

“Harry, where are you? I found your message at the outpost, but the jungle is too dense to travel through.”

Harry blinked and shook his head. He’d never thought that he’d hear from or see Hermione ever again.


	5. Apocalypse Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropey crackish crack fic. Time travel, dark lords, apocalypse, muggle slaughter, oh and freedom for the elves!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is owned by the fabulous J.K. Rowling. I don't own anything. warnings for this short story, adult language, violence, murder, mayhem, genocide, typical dark minion behavior, etc... this is as complete as I will ever make it. feel free to adopt, but do leave a link in the comments so that I can read it =)

-0-

Apocalypse Elf 

-0-

Postwar, life was good. After the dark wanker's death, he’d gone on a three month holiday and seen the world, er--well some of it. There were a few tropical islands, some pretty girls and a lot of alcohol in any case. 

After that well, he’d joined the Auror academy and busted his arse to earn it. Cause half the world thought the-boy-who-lived to conquer was being handed everything, he’d had to work twice as hard.

In the interim, he’d begun to date Ginny again. She played for the Holyhead Harpies while he ran around learning questionable magics and chasing dark wizards. All was well and good--well it wasn’t boring anyway.

Then some shit had managed to hit him with an Avada Kedavra, again. It was a week after his 26th and Gin had just told him she was pregnant. That was what he was thinking about when he’d woken up back in that damn train station. 

Like the first time, the ethereal station was bleached out and blindingly white. As before Albus sodding Dumbledore sat waiting for him on a bench calm as you please. And if he’d been that same naïve teenager he might never have noticed, but as it was, it seemed bloody obvious. Maybe the old wanker didn’t have a twinkle in his eye, or maybe it was the fact that the would-be Albus was wearing something drab, either way, it wasn’t him.

“Who’re you?” He asked walking forward with no care for his nudity.

The fake Albus gave him a wry grin and nearly knocked him on his arse with his reply, “What gave me away, Master?”

“Fuck me,” Harry snorted and plopped down next to Death.

Albus’ face morphed into a younger visage with eyes as black as its hair, “If you insist,” it hissed with not a small amount of cruelty.

Harry choked and shook his head frantically.

The thing chuckled darkly and smirked.

“So--er, I’m dead then?” Harry asked already resigned to his fate.

“Not nearly as much as you should be,” Death replied.

Harry chose not to speak again, just waited for it to say something. He knew from past experience when someone was fucking with him. This place didn’t have time like the living world, but it felt like an eternity before it continued speaking.

With another chuckle, it said, “You can’t go back Master,” it spat, “But neither can you die.”

Harry’s heart nearly beat out of his chest, what the hell. Would he just be stuck here in limbo forever? 

“No.”

“Sorry, no what?” He asked frantically.

“No, you cannot stay here. This place is only for those that are dead, and as we have established my master cannot die,” its voice was flat in its reply.

“But you just said that I can’t go back!” 

Death’s eyes flickered with some kind of unholy inner light. Harry gulped at the sight and was about to apologize when a loud train whistle echoed throughout the entire station.

“You will take a train--on. If we are both lucky I won’t see you again for many decades,” it hissed.

Harry leaped from the bench as though it were on fire and hurried forward where a washed out version of the Hogwarts Express awaited him. Without glancing back at the entity, Harry boarded the train and sat down in the first compartment.

As the train began to move he felt himself grow tired. So tired that it became impossible to even keep his eyes open. He fought the foreign sensation for as long as he could before finally succumbing and slumping over in his seat.

-0-

It was cold was his first thought. The second and perhaps more important thought, was that he seemed to be lying prone on gravel. Reorienting himself was a considerable task. Finally, after a couple of difficult moments in which he convinced his brain that yes he did, in fact, have a body, he managed to push himself into a seated position.

It felt cool enough to be late fall, which was of course too bloody cold to be sitting naked in an unremarkable alleyway. While he was assessing his location he wiggled his fingers and toes. A glance down confirmed he did indeed seem to be in his regular old body. 

Out of habit more than anything, he brought his fingers up to his face, intending to push his glasses back up. But, they weren’t there and while that wasn’t surprising given the state of nakedness, it did not, in fact, explain his perfect vision. 

As he pulled his hands away he noticed some kind of black mark on the palm of his right hand. Swiftly turning the hand over he focused on the symbol.

“Damn.” he cursed.

There it was plain as day, the symbol for the deathly hallows. Shite. What did that even mean? He really needed to find some clothes and--er maybe figure out where the hell he was. Hadn’t Death said that he couldn’t stay in limbo, and he couldn’t go back? So where was this?

Stumbling to his feet he swayed, dangerously close to collapsing again before finding his balance. Wandless wasn’t something he excelled in, but maybe if he was desperate enough he could make a half-assed cloak or something. A quick search of the alley had him plucking a pebble from nearby.

Squinting at the small stone as though it had offended his very being, he focused on turning the rock into a cloak. He felt a rush of magic run down his arm into the stone and yelped as the rock melted into a pile of fabric.

It must have been a good five minutes that he just stared at the garment on the ground. No way had he been able to do that before. After the shock wore off he collected a hand full of pebbles and set about transfiguring an entire outfit.

Once dressed things seemed not as bleak, after all being more powerful wasn’t really a problem, he’d just need to keep a glamour on his hand so no one asked any questions. 

-0-

He was thankful that he’d settled on exploring his new home invisible. Turned out he’d been punted into some alternate Kockturn Alley. The wind picked up a tad and blew an old newspaper toward him. A flick of his finger and it was floating to him.

The headline said, “Nobby Leach forced to stand down.”

Harry had no clue who the hell Nobby Leach was but the date had him reeling. July 1st, 1968. 

Even if the paper was old he still had a major problem on his hands. He was decades in the past without money or family. 

Harry cursed a blue streak and crumpled the paper letting it fall back to the ground.

He needed to think, had to have a plan. There was no way he was going to Dumbledore. Bitterness had set it right after the war, once he’d had time to think about all the strings the old man had pulled to make his early life complete shite. Not counting that he planned all along for Harry to walk to his death willingly without knowing for certain that he’d be able to come back. And now here he was shunted into another world. This could turn out to be a curse. Death had pretty much said this would keep happening, so if that was the case then Dumbledore had cursed him into endless life. One without a reprieve at the end. 

At this particular moment, if someone had asked, Harry wasn’t sure if he’d say he hated Albus or Voldemort more. 

“Both of them can kiss my arse,” he muttered with a firm nod.

Right now the dark wanker was infiltrating Britain again after his ten-year sojourn into black magic. All the little bigots would be running to him with open arms. 

He needed a solid plan, one that would see old Tommy boy dead right away. Then he’d only have to worry about Albus.

-0-

Working as an Auror and the fact that muggles didn’t have digital files yet, was proving beyond useful. Two days in this new world and he’d stolen the deed and records for an abandoned muggle farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. One fidelius charm later and there wasn’t a soul alive besides himself and his new elf Dodder, that even knew the place existed.

Dodder was a fairly old elf that he was able to purchase after changing out a bunch of lifted muggle cash. Hermione would be so disappointed in him right now. He’d turned into a master thief and criminal overnight and cheated the Ministry’s being division out of an elf all in 48 hours. Of course, Hermione would have flipped her shite at the fact the Ministry itself was selling elves in this time period at all. 

The man that had sold Dodders to him had made Crab and Goyle seem intelligent. He’d just taken Harry’s word on his name, never asking for any kind of proof. Hadn’t even batted an eyelash at being told that a Mr. Ben Dover would kindly like to buy an elf. Well, Mr. Weasley had been the head of the misuse of muggle stuff and had thought that it was elekletricky or some such rubbish. Perhaps there was just a standard for even wanting to work in that building.

-0-

Two months in and one Harold Potter was established in both the muggle and magical worlds. Planting and forging documents was child's play in this decade. 

He’d considered using a new name but in the end, he was too lazy and set himself up as himself. There’d be no glamours or lies to be had, just a truth that some might not believe. He was sure that everyone would assume he was the bastard get of his grandfather Fleamont, or his grand-uncle Charlus and that was just fine with him. 

The only hitch in his plans at this point was a lack of education history and an inability to fake those records. With that horrible truth in mind, he had signed up to take the OWLS and NEWTS back to back at the Ministry. And that was where things became annoying.

-0-

“Mr. Potter, the examiner is ready for you sir,” the Ministry toadie in the department of education was a huge step up from elf man. 

Harry was led into a small exam room where a woman that looked 200 was sitting at a desk. She introduced herself and asked him to sit and explained that since he was an adult, the OWL exams would be modified for time constraints and all that. Then she’d asked him to get out his wand. And that was his oh shite moment. Harry had grown so used to his new wandless ability that he’d yet to purchase or even think about getting a new wand. 

“Er, I don’t really have one,” he offered and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“You can’t take your practicals without one Mr. Potter, really it was unwise to come so unprepared. I’m afraid you’ll have to reschedule with Lotty on your way out,” she snipped.

Maybe it was her tone, he’d never been very good with taking shite as an adult. Anyone that really knew him also knew why. Someone didn’t grow up the way he had without the ability to curse like a sailor and automatically reflect any and all shite. So it was with his normal attitude in check that he plucked a quill of the woman’s desk and wandlessly transfigured it into a mockery of his old wand.

“There, no reason to fret. I’ve got my wand, lets do this,” he snarked.

The old woman made a half-choked sound and coughed into her hand. Her eyes were practically falling out of her wrinkled head. 

-0-

Once the cat was out of the bag as it were, he’d made a show of it. For two weeks he met with the woman taking a couple of exams every day. First all of the OWLS then his NEWTS. Each day when he went into her office he’d pluck some object off her desk and turn it into a wand that he would then use for whatever spell work was required of him.

By the end of the two weeks, he’d become a source of gossip and entertainment for the entire staff. The examiner had even begun to invite others to watch him, thankfully no more than two at once. She’d even admitted it was because no one would believe her that he was doing what he was doing.

-0-

On the last day of testing, he was approached by the DMLE and the DOM, both with decent job offers. He flat out turned down the DMLE but told the DOM he’d think about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like working as an Auror, he had in fact. But rather thought it might not be such a good idea with his grand-uncle Charlus being head of the division. 

Charlus had been a pest all week. Once he’d even demanded that Harry tell him who his father was. That half the atrium overheard their conversation was just a bonus. Harry had just said that he had no idea and tried to blow the man off, but there was no denying Potter hair. 

-0-

It wasn’t just Charlus he had to worry about now. After showing off at the Ministry for weeks he’d started getting owls from people he’d rather not. Albus, Abraxsus Malfoy, and Dorea Potter to name a few. What the hell grandpa Malfoy wanted with him, Harry had no idea but figured it was nothing good. Probably wanted to recruit him for the lord of darkness. All three had extended invitations for tea, dinner and a meeting respectively to which he declined. 

Albus sent him a second invitation that completely ignored his own reply. Dorea sent a howler and Abraxsus sent a portkey. And yes, he was that stupid.

-0-

The unexpected pull at his navel had him cursing as he landed in an ornate office.

“Give me one reason that I shouldn‘t kill you,” Harry spat and threw the offending piece of parchment onto the floor.

The clearing of a throat was his only reply. He spun on his feet to face the threat and found a man with platinum hair and steely eyes sitting behind an antique wooden desk.

“Mr. Potter, so glad you could make it.”

Harry didn’t reply just stared into Malfoy’s eyes.

“Have a seat,” Malfoy motioned to the chair opposite him.

“You have one minute to explain yourself and I warn you, Mr. Malfoy, if this in any way has anything to do with a Dark Lord, it will go poorly for you,” Harry offered in return.

He had to give it up to grandpa Malfoy. The man had a presence that put Lucius to shame. He was downright intimidating and so far the only response or reaction was the quirking of one blond brow.

“You must be related to Charlus,” Malfoy drawled after a long tense silence.

“Thirty seconds Mr. Malfoy,” Harry retorted.

Ever since the Tri-Wizard Tournament Harry had disliked port keys. The fact that he was sent one without warning already had him pissed. And while self-preservation would have him at least be polite to his--kidnapper--Potter attitude snuck up on him and he continued to poke at the snake as it were.

When Malfoy didn’t immediately speak Harry decided to go with his own version of a scare tactic. He’d always been an overpowered freak, now he just didn’t need a wand. 

A twitch of his fingers and a very small tightly controlled snake of fiendfyre began to float and circle around his hand. “Ten seconds.”

Those silvery eyes widened slightly at the fireworks, “A colleague of mine asked me to send an invite for a meeting because he thought that I would have better luck then he did.”

“Which colleague would that be?” Harry asked as the snake of living fire began to grow and undulate around his wrist.

“Saul Croaker,” Malfoy replied hastily while his eyes remained on the cursed fire.

Harry jerked his mouth dropping open a bit, “The DOM guy, yeah?” He asked and shook his hand to put out the fire.

Malfoy scoffed aloud at the display, “Yes, the DOM guy, as you say. And while I understand that being sent a portkey without notice is disorienting I’d appreciate if you’d refrain from casting fiendfyre in my house,” Malfoy muttered.

Harry shrugged not the slightest apologetic this was a Malfoy after all, “I told Croaker that I’d think about his offer, I didn’t say no,” he retorted and flopped into the chair facing the other man.

“It has been a week, I assume now that perhaps he was hasty in trying to get a response from you so soon,” Malfoy leaned to his side and pulled a crystal decanter of whiskey over to the desk with two glasses. After pouring two fingers into each glass he slid one over to Harry and then drank his own in one go.

“Er, maybe the fiendfyre was an overreaction. I seem to have made an assumption here and you know what they say about assuming something.” Harry chuckled at the blank look on Malfoy’s face.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Harry continued. 

“Be my guest,” Malfoy drawled.

“I’m going to say a name just to see your reaction and then ask you about that person.”

Malfoy poured himself a second drink and muttered, “Do go on.”

“Tom Riddle,” Harry blurted without warning.

Malfoy's face burned with embarrassment as his entire body tensed. Harry waited for the fit to end with amusement. 

“Tom Riddle you say, well I have only had the pleasure of meeting him the once. It was at a party that Slughorn had this Christmas last. I knew of him before that of course, my son has spoken of him on multiple occasions,” Malfoy offered.

“Why did you choke up at the mention of his name and why would your son talk about him?” Harry demanded.

Malfoys mask cracked again and he gave Harry an incredulous look, “He’s an intense fellow that quite honestly reminds me a great deal of you,” he retorted unkindly then chuckled darkly, “I choked because Mr. Riddle was a little too interested in me, if you know what I mean,” he shrugged. 

“As far as my son is concerned, well Riddle was been teaching at Hogwarts for twenty years now. As my son’s favorite professor, I hear about the man all too frequently.”

Harry was boggled. Riddle had been teaching for twenty years? He’d noticed several differences between this world and his, but it had just never occurred to him that something would be so intrinsically different. In his world, Riddle had applied for the DADA position twice and been refused both times. Was Albus not the headmaster? Was Tom not Voldemort in this world? He internally cursed himself for not having investigated his new home.

“Interesting,” Harry replied while his mind went a mile a minute. “I think it’s safe to say I’m not interested in working for the Ministry in any capacity,” he smirked then leaned back in the chair and reached out to the manor wards. 

There was, of course, an anti-apparition ward in place, but like with all things if you pushed enough power into it, well it might as well not be there. With a wink, Harry apparated out of Malfoy manor straight through all of the wards and back into his own home. Let Malfoy stew over that for a while. Why yes, you have just pissed off a man that can get into your house and set you on fire. Harry chuckled at the thought. Perhaps Riddle wasn’t a Dark Lord, and maybe just maybe Malfoy wasn’t the lackey of a Dark Lord, but he was still a Malfoy.

-0-

Between the testing at the Ministry and general fuckery, he’d mostly spent the past two months turning this shit heap into a working farm. With Dodders help it had been all too easy to steal farm animals and plants one or two at a time from damn near every muggle farm in the country. 

Transfiguration, runes of permanence and expansion charms took care of the rest. Up to and including a massive greenhouse and a barn with enough expansion charms on it to impress a Scamander. Illegal--yes, helpful? Absolutely.

But it seemed that while he was playing Harry had a farm, he should instead have been researching this worlds more immediate past. Riddle was a professor--and possibly gay, not that that was important. Dodders had helped him steal a set of past Daily Prophets, really house elves made the best cohorts in crime. No one ever thought to ward against them and they could bypass things like anti-copy charms. So very nifty.

Two hours into this new task and he was completely floored. Riddle was a teacher, and Albus was a scholar and inventor of dubious morality that rarely left his pub. In this world, he’d been arrested for the fight with Grindelwald that killed his sister. He spent a year in Azkaban and then faded into the background after his release.

Even more interesting was the fact that Grindelwald had died that day as well. It was proven in a trial in front of the entire Wizengamot that Gellert had accidentally hit Ariana with an Avada. Albus had responded with a burst of raw magic that was off the charts. It had broken every bone in Gellert’s body, including his neck--thus ending the would be dark lords life.

After his release from prison, his reputation had been in tatters. This Albus had never studied with Nicolas Flamel. He’d never been a teacher or visited a younger Riddle in the orphanage. He’d never been the headmaster. He also didn’t work at the Ministry which made his ignored letters all the more interesting. What did Albus want?

Harry was stupid, there was every chance that Albus was a dark wizard. He’d read that book about the old man's life and while a lot of it had been conjectured, a good chunk was true.

“Dodder can you go through the stack and look for anything to do with the alchemist Nicolas Flamel?”

Dodders stood next to the mountain of old papers and snapped his fingers a few times. Three newspapers appeared in front of him where he was sitting. “I love you Dodders.”

The elf squeaked in embarrassment and popped away. Harry chuckled and picked through the offering. Seems the famed alchemist had shuffled off this mortal coil ten years after Albus’ release, coincidence? There was no mention of what had happened to the infamous stone.

Harry supposed that if he managed to get a look at Albus he’d know one way or another. 

-0-

Intrigue aside these and other mysteries would need to be put on hold. He needed gold. Stealing wasn’t a long term option. Dodders had been joined with Missy, another Ministry purchase. The two elves had the farm firm in hand. Together they not only kept everything running, but had managed with his help to complete a second greenhouse. This one entirely set up for potion ingredients. 

A second barn was placed on the property with potions in mind. With the two elves help, he collected magical plants and animals from the wild and began to farm them for gold. It was slow going but a third elf smoothed out the process. Dodders, Missy and Sella turned the greenhouse and barn into a trickle of much-needed galleons by selling their yields to a few local apothecaries.

-0-

Turned out he was supposed to have a license to breed animals and farm plants for potions. There were even restrictions put in place on what a house elf could do for their owners legally, outside of their owner's property. Harry wasn’t aware of any of this, as with most things he’d never bothered with research and simply jumped in head first.

It wasn’t until Charlus Potter, head of the DMLE had managed to follow one of the elves home after a sale--that he’d started to get a clue. Of course, Charlus couldn’t see the property, it was still protected by extensive charms and wards. That didn’t prevent the Auror from realizing that there was a property that he couldn’t see. 

With the elves unable to leave the property and Charlus continuing to stake out the farm, Harry was back to square one.

-0-

In true Gryffindor fashion, he decided to go to the Ministry and look into applying for the correct licenses. Potter luck stuck true when he was attended to by a man as stupid as the one in charge of selling elves. Unfortunately, Charlus Potter was waiting for him in the hall after he’d submitted all the forms.

“Fancy running into you here today Mr. Potter,” Harry chirped glibly. 

Unimpressed didn’t even come close to describing Charlus’ face. “I see you’ve come to try and correct your lack of licensing.”

“Er, listen I didn’t even know what I was doing was illegal,” Harry grumbled and thought it was absurd that he was being punished for the only above-board thing he’d done since ending up here. 

“Umhm well son, you can follow me back to the Auror office and pay your fines. Then you can explain why you refused our offer of dinner and sent that nasty reply to my wife,” Charlus frowned.

Before Harry could reply, Charlus had turned on his heel and began walking away so briskly that he practically had to jog to keep up. By the time the two of them had reached the Auror office, he was deeply annoyed. 

Between the fines and the cost of filing for licenses, Harry had not only spent all the money he’d made by selling the potions ingredients but a huge portion of his stolen muggle funds. Then to add insult to injury, he’d had to agree to spend the evening with Charlus and Dorea. In his head he sighed, at least it wouldn’t be as annoying as meeting with grandpa Malfoy--er hopefully.

-0-

Once he was at home, Harry explained to the three elves that the Ministry had confiscated all of their money, “But hey we have licensing now, so there’s that.”

His elves were grieved at the news but perked up when he told them about the idiot in the license and registration office. “He gave me the wrong form, but it gave me the idea to summon one of everything while he was bumbling around.”

The elves all nodded their heads dutifully.

“So, er--now we can raise plant or farm damn near anything, up to and including dragons. Not that I think we should get dragons. Although we could, in theory, use the Scamander expansion charm on an already large barn--imagine how big that thing would be,” Harry continued to rant to the enraptured elves.

“Master, Dodders thinks we’re needing more elves.”

The other two elves looked at Dodders and nodded furiously.

“Oh, er--sure. I love elves. You’re much more efficient than wizards, normally smarter too,” Harry added with a laugh.

Thinking about how wonderful the elves were made him miss Hermione. Would she hate him for having elves? They weren’t exactly mistreated but they weren’t free either. 

“I wish I could just free your whole species so that you’d be equal to wizards,” he said with meaning and winced at a sudden sharp pain in his chest.

As he walked away toward the house, he missed the looks of adulation the elves were giving him. 

-0-

Dodders watched his new beloved master walk away with a growing sense of awe. He wasn’t sure that Master Harry knew of the bonds elves be having.

Wizards could be bonding an elf and be keeping them alive, but the Great Master Harry wasn’t just a wizard. Oh, no Great Master’s inside magic be glowing like the sun. Dodders had been feeling better and better after the Great Master brought him home. 

Missy squeaked and grabbed her ears, “Dodders ears and face be changing!”

Sella snapped her fingers and a large mirror appeared before the three elves. They all admired themselves and goggled at the changes. Their ears were more narrow and slightly pointed. All three of them were slightly taller, Dodders more so than the rest. Their eyes were not quite as large.

Sella looked back and forth between her new elf family, “I feel smarter, what is happening to us Dodders?”

“The Great Master Harry isn’t a wizard Sella. He’s being something more. Dodd--er--I feel like a curse has been lifted from me,” the still changing Dodders swayed along with his reflection.

-0-

Lippy woke in her cupboard feeling better than she ever had. Things just seemed clearer. She couldn’t believe that she’d been such a bad elf to have taken a nap in the middle of the day. On second thought, why couldn’t she rest if she wasn’t well--that was what wizards did.

She flexed her hands and was surprised to find there was no pain. After breaking a glass last night she’d had to iron her hands. The bandages unwound from her fingers and she stared in shock. Her fingers were different, more like the Master’s wife.

Making sure no one could see her, she snuck into the bathroom and stared into the mirror unsure of what she was seeing. 

She looked like a human. Now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed her hair. It hung in blonde waves down to the middle of her back. Running her hand through it, she saw that her ears were narrow and longer than her human masters and quite pointed at the end.

This didn’t feel like a curse, it felt like a long punishment had ended.

On the main floor of Malfoy Manor, she heard her master calling for her, but it didn’t send a zing through her body. Blinking her pretty new eyes she glanced at the door and smirked. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but she was free!

-0-

Harry woke up on the couch with a groan. He felt like he’d been hit by a lorry. Blinking his bleary eyes he tried to focus on the clock across the room. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw that he was due at the Potters in thirty minutes. Merlin, he’d been asleep for seven hours. 

Swaying in place for a moment he began to lurch toward the bathroom. A look into the mirror confirmed that he looked as bad as he felt. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes greeted him as he feebly reached for his toothbrush. He was exhausted.

With a flick of his fingers he attempted to scourgify himself and straighten out his clothes, but--nothing happened. 

“Magical exhaustion, what the heck did I even do,” Harry murmured and headed toward his bedroom to change clothes the hard way.

The floo roared to life as he was walking down the hall. He peaked his head into the sitting room and saw Charlus’ head in the fire. With a sigh, he managed to walk over and kneel in front of the fire.

“Charlus, I didn’t think I was late. Sorry but I’m not feeling that good, to be honest.”

Charlus’ eyes narrowed as he focused on Harry’s face, “You’re not looking that great either son, perhaps it's for the best then that we have to cancel dinner. Don’t think you’re getting out of coming over indefinitely, but all of our elves disappeared earlier.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Er--really?”

Charlus nodded solemnly, “We’ve no idea what has happened to them.”

“Well, I hope they’re alright. If I’m not going anywhere you’ll have to excuse me, I really need to go to bed,” Harry said with little energy. 

“You do that and when you’re better you will come and see us!” Charlus informed him.

Harry gave the stern Auror a nod and closed the floo. Getting back up off the floor was a task he didn’t think he was going to be able to accomplish at first. But, eventually, he made his way into his bedroom and flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. He was asleep before his eyes shut.

-0-

Dodders practically danced into Harry’s room on fleet feet. He and many of the others kept watch over Harry as he slept off his fatigue and regained his light. With a snap of his fingers, he made sure the man was hydrated and clean. It was an honor to help the great being that had freed them. From his right, a small giggle lightened the room.

“I hadn’t noticed you in here Dobby,” Dodders smiled down at the little elfling. One of many freed from the horrors of Malfoy Manor. His mother Lippy had shown up with him three days past.

Harry’s light had freed them and shown them the path to its origin. Many had made the pilgrimage to thank their savior and when they found him in a restorative sleep, they stayed. His sacrifice was great. Dodders bowed his head and thanked Harry once more, but no amount of thanks would ever be enough. 

-0-

Outside of the old farmhouse, several elves stood in a circle arguing. The main reoccurring topic was what they were to do now. Dodders had offered them a place on the farm but many were weary. 

“He offered to build a few small cottages for us on the property since the farmhouse is so run down. So that we could have our own rooms,” Missy sniffled as she retold one of the many instances of Harry’s greatness.

Lippy scoffed and rolled her eyes, “You’ve said. There’s hardly room here for all of us though and you know more and more are going to show up.”

The others nodded in agreement. Space would soon be a problem.

The oldest of the bunch was an ancient elf that went by the name of Nan. It was strange to her that this blessing would come to her in the twilight of her life. At three-hundred-and-twenty-three, she was the oldest elf alive. But her mother Nonny had been over five hundred and Nonny’s mother had been even older when she had passed into the light.

“My mother old Nonny, told me many things as an elfling. Things she said we shouldn’t forget. She said we’d done wrong and were bad,” Nan crooned to the others in a solemn voice that crackled with age.

Lippy and a few others hissed.

“We were punished,” Nan continued to the growing anger of those gathered around her.

Lippy snarled, “Those wizards had no right to punish us!”

Nan gave her a humorless smile, “We weren’t punished by wizards Lippy. Old Nonny said that her great-grandsire had been brought low and his punishment was servitude. Unfortunately, that punishment seems to have passed on in his seed. We were punished by our own kind Lippy,” Nan reached out and grasped the younger elf’s shoulder giving it a squeeze.

“That’s absurd, we wouldn’t have enslaved our own kind!” Lippy shouted and curled her lips into a fierce scowl. 

Nan nodded her head, “Wizards send their criminals to a desolate island that’s guarded by dark monsters that feed on happiness and eat souls,” she offered with a shrug, “Old Nonny said her great-grandsire was a bad elf and he was punished. She said Nellon had killed in anger and was made to serve, a curse that seemed to have never ended, until Harry. May magic bless him and his light,” Nan finished with wet eyes and trembling hands.

The collected elves were silent as they absorbed this information and thought on it. 

-0-

Three days later and elsewhere . . .

Tom Riddle’s eyes flashed red as he strode into the office. The aging headmaster slumped further into his squashy chair and sighed, “Good morning Tom was there something you needed?”

Tom’s left eye twitched in irritation, “Why yes Headmaster there is indeed something I need,” he said in a quiet angry tone.

Aberforth knew what the younger man wanted but glumly replied, “And that is?”

“The elves are still missing and quite frankly I am unwilling to be a kitchen servant, sir,” Tom spat, “The others might continue on but this morning was my last. With the castle in such chaos, and classes suspended there’s no need for me to be here. Because I would point out that my contract says nothing about cooking and laundry.”

Aberforth watched as his most popular professor threw a handful of powder into the floo and stormed into the fire. He wouldn’t be the last to leave. Truly he was considering sending the children home until other arrangements could be made. They would need to hire witches and wizards to take over all of the elves old duties. Something for which he would be happy to do as he knew there were many magicals that simply went back into the muggle world, for lack of work. But, there was just no budget for the workforce the castle would now need. 

Two hundred elves were gone in the blink of an eye. Where had they gone? And why? They were never mistreated as some were in wizarding homes. Perhaps they were just underappreciated. He himself had never given thought to just how much they did. The school was sorely lacking without them, to the point that it wasn’t functioning at all. 

The kitchens were being staffed by the professors, even he had taken a turn. The only thing he’d managed to do as the elves had, was set up a charm that would send the food up to the tables at a command. Useful, but someone still had to cook for hundreds of students. No small task.

Then there was the cleaning and the laundry. Aberforth sighed again and cursed ever having taken over for Dippet. If he closed the school he wasn’t even sure how they would manage to get all the luggage to the train. Merlin, the elves did everything.

-0-

“My Lord, I fear I bring news that will anger you,” Tom whispered and knelt before his master.

“Speak.”

“I’ve quit my position at the school I--,” Tom broke off with a scream as pain rent through his body. His master held the curse for longer than he ever had. His body slumped to the floor unable to hold itself up through the pain. After he managed to gather his thoughts, his temper held with the help of occlumency. 

“You’ve disappointed me, what use are you now?” 

Tom narrowed his eyes in insolence at his master. The very thought that he was useless made his eyes flash red and once again he considered his--options. Unlike himself, his master hadn’t walked so far onto the road of immortality. Yes, the Dark Lord had the stone, but he hadn’t discovered his own unique method as Tom had.

“The castle is unable to function without the elves, it will close soon. There is no telling when they will acquire the funding needed to hire human servants.” Tom replied icily.

“Crucio!”

-0-

Milicent Bagnold was having a horrible no good very bad week. She’d been the Minister of Magic for three months after Nob screwed the pooch. Being voted in by the Wizengamot with a majority of 80% should have made for smooth sailing at least the first year, or so she thought. 

The Head of the DMLE was whispering in her ear about a rising Dark Lord, then he was complaining about some overpowered show off that might or might not be his get. Lord Malfoy had been accused of somehow giving old Nob some lethal strain of Spatergroit. 

Then just this week past, some idiot had placed some kind of overpowered charm on a farm that made the land vanish, and her lead in the DOM said it was growing. Thankfully the muggles were unaware and weren’t like to notice given that it was hard to miss something that just wasn’t there.

She rubbed her eyes and jolted, perhaps it was that same kid that Potter was bitching about--hadn’t he transfigured a pencil into a wand and cast with it? Well, if anyone could overpower a charm it was that kid, she’d need to remember to send a memo to Potter. 

Or not. She slammed her hand against the top of her desk. Every time she turned around she was reminded of all the things the elves had taken care of in the building before they’d disappeared. Why was this happening to her?

-0-

Looking out at the magicals assembled from his raised table, he couldn’t help but lament that things had gone so wrong with Gellert. It felt wrong to be doing this without him. Once he’d thought that Tom Riddle could be his right hand but lately, it was clear the younger man was having thoughts above his station. Fifty years of planning wouldn’t be thrust aside and forgotten. The greater good was all that mattered. 

In the end, that had twisted much as he himself had. Albus Dumbledore was many things, but he was honest. He knew himself to be dark and he knew that he and Gellert's plans had twisted. 

Muggles couldn’t be ruled, there would be no throne, no order that the unwashed masses would kneel too. There was only one choice, the right choice. He’d save this world, even if he had to burn it to the ground and rebuilt it in his image.

“Good to see you all have made it on this eve of our victory!” Albus proclaimed smiling out at two hundred plus wizards and witches packed into the hall.

“Tonight we take back what is rightfully ours!” 

A cacophony of cheers echoed loudly throughout the room.

“You each have a specific task, there will be no room for failure. Failure would mark our end and we can not let that happen. Ours is the true path, we will not be weak, we will have strength in our numbers. We will break the chains placed upon us by the filthy muggles and we will be free!”

Albus chuckled darkly with a glint in his twinkling blue eyes. Oh yes, this world would be brought to its knees. Magic was might.

-0-

Elphias, like several others, had already been on their tasks while his master was rallying the rest. His was a necessary task. Most wizards didn’t want to believe that the muggles had weapons of mass destruction, but he and the inner circle knew it to be true. 

For the past year, their ragtag band had gone through nearly every military base on the planet. Their job was to deactivate atomic bombs and they had, tonight marked the end. They were finally finished. 

When the mirror in his pocket began to vibrate he pulled it out excitedly, “It is finished my Lord,” he offered with glee.

“Excellent Elphias, you all should know what happens next. Take your portkey and wait ten minutes before launching the assault. Everyone else is in place.”

“It will be done,” Elphias replied smiling. They had waited so long and it was finally, finally time.

-0-

Hundreds of loud pops interrupted the quiet of the farm. Dodders ran outside to see what was happening.

“Is Harry safe?” Nan asked.

“Yes, what has happened?” Dodders asked glancing nervously at all the scared faces.

“London is on fire,” one elf replied.

“So is Paris,” another said.

Several others from even further away reported the same things. The muggle cities were burning and it was cursed fire.

“Will the fire reach us here?” Nan asked.

Dodders shook his head, “No, Harry blessed this land with his light, it can no longer be seen or touched by muggles, uninvited wizards or outside forces.”

“Even fire?” Lippy asked nervously.

Dodders placed a hand on the young elves shoulder, “Harry thought of that and many more things, his light is very bright. No fire, flood or ill will of men will ever reach us here.”

“Magic bless Harry and his light,” several elves mumbled at once.

“Yes, bless Harry. Perhaps we should pass the word along that safety can be found here for any creature, not of man?”

Dozens of heads bobbed in agreement.

-0-

“Sonorus, Evacuate the Ministry and apparate out of the city. London has been attacked by dark wizards. I repeat, evacuate the building and aparate outside of London, fiendfyre has been loosed!” Charlus screamed out to every department.

People ran around screaming in terror as Charlus told his Aurors to help clear the building, assigning each department to a different Auror. 

“Once the building is clear we will reconvene in front of Gringotts London,” he continued.

-0-

Inside of Gringotts, the goblins were ignoring the issue, even went so far as to remain open. One exasperated witch ran up to a teller to kindly tell the goblins about the fire. Gnarltooth sneered at the wand carrier, “Gringotts is fireproof madam, not even fiendfyre will breach this stone.”

The witch blinked at him in shock, “Really?”

Gnarltooth grunted, “You wand carriers are ridiculous. Next!”

The witch sputtered and grumbled as she stumbled back out into the growing chaos. The man in line behind her asked what everyone else was thinking, “Will the wards on the alley hold against fiendfyre?”

“They aren’t goblin wards, so--” Gnarltooth shrugged, it was doubtful. The wand carriers should have hired goblins.

-0-

At the entrance to Diagon Alley, a small contingent of Auror’s headed by Charlus Potter worked to beat back the flames, “Sonorus, don’t bother trying to put it out, will it away. Expellus on one, two, three! Expellus!”

“Mad eye, make sure the alley is empty this isn’t going to hold,” he ordered.

Mad eye Moody’s fake eye spun in his head taking in the carnage, “Aye, Constant Vigilance!”

-0-

Elphias floated on his broom well above the inferno below him. Watching as the sentient flames cleaned the muggle filth from the lands. His eyes welled with tears, finally, he thought, finally they would be gone.

When his mirror began to vibrate, he took a deep breath and tried to steady his emotions, “My Lord?”

“Power up the wards on the outskirts now, it wouldn’t do to kill our own.”

Elphias gave his oldest and dearest friend a watery smile, “It will be done.”

-0-

Dodders and a hundred or more elves stood in a large circle and pulled on the energy of the leys to expand Harry’s wards. They were going to need the space now that all the elves were here. 

Magic from deep in the Earth rose at their command and expanded out around them, further and further. They continued pulling and expelling until many of them were swaying with exhaustion.

When the first of them fell to their knees they finished the spell and sat where they’d been standing. He could feel it. Harry’s spells stretched for twenty miles in every direction. They would be safe, he smiled at the accomplishment and closed his eyes for a rest.

-0-

The last of the wizards had left, finally. Gnarltooth stood with a few of his fellows and watched from the front doors as the alley burned to ash. The screaming cursed flames twisted into different shapes as they razed everything, but the bank. 

“Do you think the wizards that did this, considered that there were other idiot wizards living in the city?” Hammerblood asked aloud to no one in particular.

Gnarltooth laughed harshly, “Those wand waving idiots rarely think anything through. They repressed us, took away our right to wield wands and then gave us control over their gold. Stupid, the lot of them.”

Laughter filled the nearly empty bank.

-0-

Dorea Potter ran to the receiving room at the sound of apparition, “Charlus?”

Her husband stood before her covered in soot looking utterly defeated, “London is gone and the Ministry is no more,” he offered and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Dorea gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as tears tracked down her cheeks. Charlus wrapped her in a tight hug and whispered, “We will be fine. Fleamont will be here with the rest of the family soon. We’ll raise the wards and shut the world out until it makes sense again.”

Dorea nodded her head against his shoulder and continued to cry.

-0-

Aberforth stared at his brother refusing to cow, “This madness was your doing I take it?”

Albus smiled, “I know you don’t understand, but sometimes doing what is right instead of what is easy is confusing. It was easy for us to hide, and we did that for hundreds of years, even though we are the superior race. But now, now we do what is right. This new world is ours.”

Aberforth studied his older brother. His older brother without a trace of the gray that streaked his own hair. Albus looked like he hadn’t aged a day in thirty years or more. Those electric light blue eyes still twinkled with the man’s innate power. 

“I’ve never liked muggles, not after what happened to our sister and father, but this is--Albus this is genocide.”

Albus cocked his head to the side, “Not really, they aren’t people like you and I are Abe. After all, we are all human, and wizards will still fill that role. Genocide denotes that all humans are dead and that is simply not true. I’ve just taken out the trash.”

Aberforth swallowed harshly at the bile that threatened to crawl up his throat, “Will you and yours be attacking us now? I ask only because there are children here Albus. Many of which no longer have families.”

Albus bowed his head slightly, “It is regrettable to have caused any amount of grief to a magical child. We both know what can happen to a magical child that is traumatized. Alas, these actions were necessary. But to answer your question, no. We will not be waging war against magicals. There is much work still to be done, you will, of course, keep all the children here? I’ve heard about your elf problems, but it isn’t safe to send any of them away.”

Abe clenched his jaw, “Is Tom with you then?”

Albus chuckled, “As much as Tom is with anyone, but I fear he’s become a little bit of a loose cannon. If he returns here it won’t be on my orders.”

Albus excused himself and sauntered out of the room in his mind-numbing purple robes. The little stars that covered the material were enchanted to twinkle. Abe would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so terrible. 

-0-

Tom Riddle had done as his master bid and set fire to five separate cities. And now that the fires had been extinguished and the culling had begun, Tom’s time as a follower was at an end. Albus was a means to an end to all of those filthy disgusting muggles. 

While Albus had always wanted him to be his right hand, Tom had trouble following anyone else. They were more alike than Albus would ever admit to. After all, only one of them would openly call themselves a dark lord--and it wasn’t Albus. 

That man wasn’t as self-aware as he believed. What they had done today was for the benefit of all magical races, but that didn‘t make them good men. He was a dark lord in his own right. There was a place for the dark and it wasn’t chained into behaving under the light.

Standing on the shore of Azkaban island he pressed the dark mark tattooed on his left forearm. 

Cracks of apparition sounded loud even against the competition of the raging sea as it beat against the rocky shore.

“Friends, the muggles have fallen. Let us now take back the dark’s first fortress.”

Avery and Carrow cheered, while LeStrange projected the dark mark up into the sky. Black and Malfoy were the first to follow his charge to the gates, green lights flashing out in front of them.

“Awe, Roddy save some for Bella,” Bellatrix cackled with glee as the first guard tower was emptied.

“What will we do with the inmates Tom?” Rookwood asked.

Tom sneered at the use of his name and answered, “We’ll set them all free, if they’re smart they’ll make it to the mainland--if not,” he shrugged.

The Death Eaters laughed as they stormed the prison. One harrowing and bloody hour later found Tom standing in the center of an ancient runic circle on the roof of the prison. Pushing his magic into the array he smiled as they glowed with power. Projecting his voice into the mind of every living being beneath him, was but a thought.

“The muggles are no more, the Ministry has fallen and your Auror guards are dead. This fortress is now mine.”

Seven hundred and fifty-three, dirty bedraggled and starving prisoners were shifted out of the prison and dumped onto the shore.

His death eaters joined him on the roof each dragging a sacrifice behind them. There was no evil, just power and those too weak to seek it.

“Kill your innocence and add a sliver of your very soul to this structure, live forever for we are magic and magic is eternal.”

“Please,” one of the few remaining Auror’s begged while struggling in Orion Black’s hands. 

Orion’s dark eyes shuddered as he drew a blade across the man’s neck and pulled at his soul as his master had instructed him, “Kill innocence and live forever,” he whispered dropping to his knees at the pain of splitting his soul.

His actions were repeated over and over around the circle until only Tom was left standing. His arms were out at his sides and his head was thrown back in the thrall of all the power gathered in the air. With a moan, he used his own considerable power to send the souls essence into the very foundation of the building. 

The Dementors that had been circling overhead shrieked and undulated in pleasure.

-0-

Fleamont and Charlus Potter were raising family blood wards around the manor when an ethereal owl swooped down in front of Charlus and began speaking.

Charlus recognized Marcus Davies voice as the Patronus delivered its message, “Azkaban has fallen to a new Dark Lord, the others are all dead, went to ground.”

When the voice was finished the owl lost its form and dissipated. 

Charlus swore, his eyes seeking out his brothers.

“Same guy that set everything on fire you think?” Fleamont asked and shivered.

Charlus sighed and rubbed his face, “No, the Dark Lord responsible for the fires is Albus Dumbledore. I tried on multiple occasions to get Nobby, and then Milicent to believe that the man was about to become a problem, but they laughed it off as paranoia.”

Fleamont cackled, “Albus that weird duck that used to have the pub with the goats--wore robes that were pink once with animated prancing unicorns on the hem--that Albus?”

“Yes, that Albus, also ex-lover of Gellert Grindelwald a dark wizard that had multiple murders under his belt by fifteen. The same Albus that went to Azkaban for his murder. The same Albus that wrote an entire anti-muggle manifesto called ‘the greater good’. Yes, that Albus.”

Fleamont stood gaped, “I’d no idea.”

Charlus shook his head and pressed his hand against the ward stone, watching as it pulsed a vibrant red, “That’s the problem no one did.”

“That’s done then?” Fleamont asked as they trudged back to the manor.

“No one is getting onto this land but family and even then, they better not have any bad intentions,” Charlus laughed.

“Good,” Fleamont nodded, “So if Albus wasn’t the Dark Lord who took Azkaban, who was?”

“Hell if I know, drink?” Charlus shook a bottle of fire whiskey in front of his brothers face.  
-0-

Aberforth had all the staff and students gather in the great hall for an announcement that would destroy a fourth of the student body. 

He twitched in anger when only five students were left to populate the Slytherin table. His brother certainly hadn’t taken children with him, this had to be Tom’s doing. 

“If I could have your attention please, I bear grave news this evening. A Dark Lord has risen and,” Abe grimaced and took a second to calm himself, “and I’m sorry to say he has attacked the muggle world systematically on a global scale.”

Half the hall broke into shouts with many just staring ahead in shock mouths agape.

“Several cities including London and Paris were burned to the ground. At this time the level of devastation is unknown to us. As many of you are aware the Ministry of Magic is situated in London and I’m afraid to say that it too, is gone.”

One fourth-year Hufflepuff screamed before slipping out of her seat in a dead faint. Which set the pace forward into a very grim evening. Thankfully none had yet to realize it was Abe’s brother that had caused all of this. What could he say? He’d known that his brother hated muggles, had known that Albus had even written a manifesto on how to--well, the point was he’d known. But, he hadn’t actually thought that Albus would do something like this. 

As children, Albus had always been the talented one. He was brilliant with spell theory and creation. More powerful than even their father, who had not an inconsiderable amount. When he was young he imagined that Albus would grow up to be the next incarnation of Merlin, or sometimes when he was being realistic, the Minister for Magic.

Then their sister had been assaulted by a group of muggles. She had only been six years old and they had--taken turns with her. The bleeding wrecked mess that father carried home that night wasn’t Arianna. She died out in the fields of wildflowers that had grown up to the muggle roads. 

What his father had done to those muggles was justice. Ask any father. To watch a man like Percival Dumbledore waste away inside of Azkaban for crimes against muggles, well it had been too much for Albus. It ruined him and stole the last of their family.

Aberforth hated muggles too, and just the thought of it, that he agreed with Albus on any level made his stomach turn and his head ache.

-0-

The vampires, werewolves, and giants had all sided with Albus and were more than happy to be a part of phase two.

Elphias had needed his master to speak the truth to him more than once to make it through this past week. Telling himself over and over, they aren’t children, they aren’t people like you and yours.

Much as he hated muggles and all that they stood for, it was difficult watching the vampires drag large portions of the survivors off for their--blood bank. 

Better they feed on the filth than us, Albus had said. And he was right, better them than us. Those few in the larger towns they’d rampaged, were what Elphias and his men took care of. They cleaned up after monsters in the light of day.

What was right was not always easy, he thought as he rounded up a couple of muggles trying to run away. As though there were still somewhere to run to.

-0-

As the muggle population dwindled to a mere percentage of what it had been, Harry slept. Harry slept as the elves continued to collect stragglers. A unicorn herd, several veela and an entire herd of centaurs all now called the space within Harry’s wards home. 

With each massive addition to the population, they gathered and pulled earth energy up and pushed the wards out further. Two weeks into Harry’s coma and Harry’s wards covered the entirety of Northumberland National Park, neigh a quarter of the country.

Last night they had been discussing what to name their country, for that was what it was. Those Wizards could continue on as they were, but every other magical race would be safe in Harry’s light. This was their home, their country--it just needed a name. Dodders tried for hours to make some version of Harry work, but it just didn’t.

“We could just call it Avalon,” Lippy offered with feigned nonchalance.

There were several snorts and not a few eye rolls, as she had been suggesting that name every time they gathered to speak of the issue.

“No.”

“Why not?” she retorted.

“Because of--reasons,” Dodders replied lamely.

Nan cackled, “Listen girlie we don’t want a name that makes the wizards think they’re welcome here.”

“Freeland,” someone spoke loudly from the back.

Dodders tilted his head to the side, “Wizards might get the wrong idea and think we’re friendly, but it has a nice ring to it. This is Harry’s land and he did Free us.”

“Hands for Freeland,” Lippy asked for a call then pursed her lips. Of course, it passed. 

“Welcome all to the country of Freeland!”  
-0-

Fleamont scratched at his chin, “Didn’t you say that Harry kid was one of--ours?”

Charlus chanced a quick look over at Dorea. Thankfully she was busy trying to get the wizarding wireless to come in.

“I said he looked like he was one of ours, I’ve never cheated so he’d have to be over twenty-five to be mine,” Charlus whispered with a glare.

Fleamont shrugged, “Don’t look at me then, its always been Euphie.”

“Well the family used to be a lot bigger maybe he‘s a distant cousin,” Charlus offered.

”Fleamont grumbled and checked on Dorea’s progress, “You get that old thing running again yet?”

“It’ll be finished when it’s finished, hush you,” Dorea chuckled and continued to try and repair the old charms that had failed.

“That Harry kid though, you’ve got his floo address, have you talked to him since this all started? The kid lived in the middle of nowhere by himself didn’t he?” Fleamont asked with obvious worry.

“I’ve also stood outside the wards and tried to get in, believe me when I say the kid is fine,” Charlus scoffed thinking back at that failure. 

Static screeched from the small box on Dorea’s lap, which was quickly followed by a loud cheer of success.

Any good cheer quickly fled when Dorea finally found a working station.

“. . . repeat this is a prerecorded emergency broadcast. This station received a cease order from the Dark Lord and we have complied. The following is a message written by him to the general public.

‘The major muggle cities have been razed to the ground. Their power plants, military and water sources have been destroyed. 

At this time two types of groups will be moving across the countryside to finish the extermination. During the day, this will be the work of fellow wizards, but in the evening it will be covens of vampires, packs of werewolves and groups of giants.

It is recommended that until the culling is complete, magicals stay inside their warded homes. If your home is not adequately warded, Hogwarts has always welcomed those in need.

Any witch or wizard attempting to hide or fight for the muggles will be treated as one. This is not a threat but a promise. No longer will we hide from filth.”

The three adults in the room stared at the device with wide eyes.

Charlus shook his head as though to clear it, “Dor, have you heard from your brother since all this started?”

“My brother is probably helping, horrible little shite that he is,” Dorea mumbled. 

“No, Dor,” Charlus whispered, “Marius.”

Dorea gasped and let out a cry, running from the room to the floo. Dear gods how could she have forgotten about Marius. As a squib, he was defenseless against magicals. 

“Marius!” Dorea shouted after throwing powder into the fire. The green flames colored her face as she waited for a reply.

“Marius, please if you’re there answer!” Dorea begged with her face in the flames.

She could just make out her brothers kitchen on the other end of the floo connection. Movement in the corner of the room had her leaning back into her side away from the flames. Faster than should have been possible a figure darted across the room and put his face in front of the flame.

“No Marius here love,” the man chuckled, his mouth open far enough for Dorea to see fangs.

“What are you doing in my brother’s house. Where is my brother!” Dorea screamed.

“Brother? He didn’t taste magical, little witch,” the vampire leered, his face contorted in the green glow of the fire.

“No, no, no,” Dorea chanted as she closed the floo and blocked it.

 

-0-

Lysander blinked as the fire changed from verdant hues to a regular flame. Sitting there on the floor he let the heat warm his body, as he thought about his new lot in life. 

A quiet broken moan shook him free from his more melancholy thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder he watched as the man he now knew to Marius, struggled to keep breathing. He’d give him points for perseverance. Popping up to his feet he walked with purpose and leaned down, placing his face right about the--squibs.

“What’s your last name squibling?”

Pressing his ear to the dying man’s mouth, he heard it. Like a promise or a curse Lysander wasn’t sure, “Black.”

Lysander jerked back and frowned. The Blacks disowned their squibs, he was sure--but then, why did the squib have a floo? With a living sister, no doubt another accursed Black, that was actively worried for him. 

“Shit,” he cursed aloud wondering if perhaps he could change the man before he--oh, he saw it was too late. Reaching out he closed Marius’ eyes and stood.

A crash and snap of breaking glass were followed by a desperate keening. Lysander had forgotten about his, partner. Reynold, a fellow vampire fifty years his junior, was disturbing on a level that scared other monsters. 

Another scream rent the air, while Lysander considered whether it wise to interrupt Reynold or not. The wife was a muggle, he was certain of that, but their children might not be. 

With a sigh, he walked into the room to find Reynold playing with his food. The loud smack of wet flesh against flesh filled his head as Reynold continued to pound the muggle into the floorboards. The angle of her neck told Lysander she was beyond caring.

He sneered at the sight and wandered down the hall to where he knew the kiddies were hiding, “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Lysander chuckled as the two heartbeats inside of the closet doubled in speed.

Ripping the door off its hinges the two small children wailed for their mother.

“She can’t hear you dear one,” Lysander smiled down into their terrified eyes.

Now knowing what he did, it was easy to see that these two were descendants of the Blacks. Both had the typical black hair and gray eyes. The girl was perhaps three, the boy six. 

From his jacket pocket, he pulled a small baton that his lord had given him.

“Grab a hold little one so we can see what is to be your fate,” he said and placed the baton in the girl's hand. Luckily for the child, it glowed.

“What’s your name witchling?” Lysander asked as he cupped the girls quivering cheek.

“L-Lyra,” she sniffled.

Lysander gave her a nod and patted her on the head before turning to the brother. He plucked the baton out of Lyra’s hand and placed it into the boys. The shaft of wood remained dark. 

“Tch,” he clucked his tongue, “Looks like we have another muggle.”

The boy started to hyperventilate as Reynold zoomed into the room, his shirt ripped and dripping with blood. 

Lysander made a quick grab for the girl before his psychopathic partner could get ideas. She struggled in his arms, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Altair!”

“I don’t care if he’s a muggle Reynold, finish it quick,” Lysander hissed.

“You’re so weak Lysander,” Reynold crooned in a sickening child-like tenor, “What’s the matter, did I hurt your little feelings?”

Faster than the other vampire expected, Lysander plopped the girl on the floor and grabbed Reynolds head between his hands giving it a lurch. The offensive appendage pulled from the man's shoulders, showering him in blood as Reynolds body crumpled and dissolved into a puddle of goo.

Flashing forward he broke the boy's neck killing him instantly. A kindness in this new world.

-0-

“Dodders!” Missy hollered as she ran toward the room where Harry slept.

Dodders looked up from the book he’d been reading to see Missy standing in the doorway, holding a baby. He quirked a brow in question.

“They--those Wizards,” she fumed, “Are marching across the country killing any muggles that they find.”

“We knew they were killing muggles,” Dodders shrugged, “Is that a muggle baby?” He asked more curious than concerned.

“No it’s--he’s a Muggle-born wizard,” she offered in a low voice.

“Why would you bring the child here?” He asked.

Missy sniffled, “Those terrible wizards are gathering the babes after they’ve killed their kin. Gora has been shadowing one of the culling crews. She said that they intend to raise them as breeding stock. They mean to enslave these, lesser children!” 

Dodders eyes burned with fury, how dare these wizards think to enslave their own kind. It was an issue that bothered the new fae kin more than any other. 

“You’ve done well bringing him here, this is a sanctuary after all,” his nostrils flared, “We will gather teams to pop around and steal the small ones.”

Missy sagged in relief, “Oh thank you Dodders, I just couldn’t stand it,” she cried.

“Harry wouldn’t abandon babes,” Dodders said in clipped fierce righteous anger. These bad wizards would come to regret their dark deeds.

-0-

Prudence Parkinson sneered at the little Mudbloods the cullers had set aside. So far seventy-three of the dirty little heathens had been found amongst the rabble. To think all of them would have ended up at Hogwarts if her master hadn’t put the filth in its place.

Still, she didn’t understand why he wanted them alive. Someone had to replace the missing house elves, she supposed they could be raised to serve and there were always brothels.

A small pop from behind startled her, but when she turned around there was nothing there. Thinking that it was just her frazzled nerves, she turned her attention back to the row of cribs. Looking down the line she saw that one bed was empty. Hadn’t they all been full?

Pop . . . Pop . . . Pop . . . 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Prudence commanded to the seemingly empty room. A shiver went down her spine as the feeling that she was being watched wouldn’t be swayed. She wasn’t alone. Someone--something, was here with her. In the back of her mind, she thought of her old house elf Tifty. The useless little thing used to make that very same sound when it would answer her calls.

Spinning around in a circle she saw the babies vanishing from their cribs one by one. Snapping away with another series of pops. A cruel smirk settled on her face, her lord would be very interested to know that the house elves were still around. And stealing Mudbloods no less!

“Mistress Parkinson,” an elegant feminine voice greeted from behind her.

Prudence swiveled on her heels and turned to face the speaker. She was a strange ethereal looking young woman, with brightly shining green eyes and silver blonde hair, that was tucked behind tall pointed ears. 

“Who are you?” She asked reaching for her wand.

“I’m not surprised that you don’t recognize me, Mistress,” Tifty sneered at her old owner and blasted her into the wall. With a crunch, the witch slid to the ground dead.

“That was for making me iron my child’s ears because your tea was cold!” Tifty screamed at the corpse.

-0-

Lysander stepped out of the floo into the temporary orphanage with Lyra asleep in his arms. He’d had to cast a sleeping charm on the girl after all that had happened.

“Prude where the hell are you?” 

The lights were on but the woman wasn’t at her desk. Thinking that she must be in the room where the little muddies slept, he strode through the doorway. All the cots and cribs were empty. The room had a single living entity. A woman with pointed ears and silver hair, standing over old Prude’s cooling body.

“Who’re you then?” He asked with a smirk.

The woman snapped her fingers and Lyra vanished from his arms, only to reappear in hers. He frowned at the action, it was so reminiscent of house-elf magic.

Glowing green eyes glared at him, “Your kind are an abomination,” her words were soft in light of their meaning.

Lysander was about to retort, but the woman cast at him. A sharp pain across his neck made any reply a fleeting thought. The last thing he saw was his own body sans head.

-0-

Meanwhile and Otherwhere 

Harry felt like he’d only been asleep for fifteen minutes or so, just long enough to be completely angry with whoever was shaking him awake. 

“Ngh, go away,” he slurred.

Wake up Master

The voiced vibrated through his skull even though he knew with surety it hadn’t been spoken aloud. It was enough to have him face planting on the ground. 

Pressing his hands against the ground he realized it wasn’t the floor in his bedroom. It wasn’t even a floor. Gazing down from high above the planet, he seemingly rested on compacted space.

The black nothingness that surrounded him made the glow of the green and blue planet below all the more other. It was both beautiful and terrible. This shelf he’d managed to end up on, in the ether he hung with the manifestation of Death. A small part of him curled up in his mind and cried, wishing for the kindness that was King’s cross. 

"Stop your sniveling there’s work to be done, Master."

Harry’s body shook trying to be brave but his limbs just wouldn’t obey. Something coiled into his hair and grasped it tightly, jerking his head back so that he was face to face with a being no one living should ever see.

It shifted personas, one second tall and male, then shifting into a more feminine visage, jerking and shrinking into a child, a boy, a girl. The horror settled on a small girl with perfect blonde ringlets for hair, and bright shining blue eyes.

"You’ve done something that’s never been done, Master."

“Wh-er,” he cleared his throat, “What did I do?” Harry asked with a stammer.

"I take partial responsibility for this." 

Harry felt his soul shrivel as the childlike face crumpled. If he’d done something that bothered Death that badly it must have truly been awful, dear God, Harry prayed.

"I failed to tell you that you’re no longer human, how could you be and be my master? You are more. Energy that would have once been beyond you, comes at but a thought. Have you--had any interesting wishes or thoughts lately, master?"

Harry’s mind raced but only managed to jump around as it always did from one subject to another. It’s why he never got anything completely finished. Why he ended up trying to be a farmer instead of looking into any possible dark lords. 

"You bonded a few of the fallen fae into your service and then filled that bond with love, and set their entire species free." 

“I didn’t, I--what?”

"You wished them free. Let me explain something, the fae were a long-lived species, they were your own kinds progenitors. They were cruel and arrogant. When one of their own committed a crime, they were made to serve."

“Being a house elf was a punishment?”

"Yes, but the curse was carried down in their blood. Their children continued to serve and thousands of years passed. The elves discovered a way to leave these lands behind for good and never bothered removing the curse. Leaving their own to toil as slaves in perpetuity."

Harry furrowed his brow, eyes glazed in thought as they passed over the image of Earth so far below them. Was lifting the curse on the fae a bad thing? He’d always loved house elves.

“All people should be born free,” Harry spoke with conviction. There was no way that they deserved to be enslaved like that.

"When the elves realized they were free, they left their homes. Your society fell, the schools, the ministry buildings, all of it ceased to function."

“They can just hire humans though, right?” 

"The Dark Lord moved his plans ahead of time while everyone was effectively distracted. He launched a global attack on the muggles. A very successful attack I must say."

Harry’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, “Globally!?”

"In the time that I’ve had you here, the Dark Lord has managed to cull 2.3 billion muggles." 

His knees gave out and his body collapsed. That couldn’t be true. Billions.

"It is the largest culling of souls at one time, that I have ever witnessed in my role as death. As we speak the slaughter continues, soon it will be complete."

Harry’s stomach rebelled, hunched over he gagged.

"Million of souls toil beneath us, you have part of my power. You will help reap what you have helped to sow."

“This isn’t--my--I freed elves that’s all!” Harry ranted in near madness.

"Not directly no, the Dark Lord was always going to try, but you did help make it possible, however well-meaning your thoughts were."

Death began to explain what his role would be in helping millions of souls move on. He could have spoken for days, here time had no real meaning. In the end, there was no way out of it. They flew like a dark wind that slowly swept across the surface of the entire planet, gathering the confused terrified souls. 

Some had seemed so small and beyond reason, clinging to the ephemeral tendrils of his embrace.

-0-

Dodders was temporarily voted in as the acting leader of Freeland. In his heart, he was just a place holder for Harry, whose light grew by the day. But, until then there were decisions to be made. Lingering in mass around an old farmhouse just wasn’t a feasible plan for tens of thousands of survivors and that was a fast-growing number.

Looking out at the rolling hills that met the ancient surrounding forests, they had a plan. Somewhere along the way, they realized Harry’s wards were very special. They weren’t taking land, they were creating it. Compared to legends of old, the only conclusion they could come to was this safe place was shifted. It was other. No matter how far the wards and charms were stretched, no matter how much space they took up, there was never a building encountered. No other people. No wizards or any sons of man. Just wilderness.

The only permanent building was Harry’s old farmhouse with its many barns, all else was untouched forests and hills. He believed with all that he was, that one day soon they would encompass the entire British Isles. The thought caused him to chuckle. It was more like the legend of Avalon every day. Lippy had been right all along, not that he was going to tell her that, insufferable that one.

Their teams to save the innocent had also grown. Intention wards added, sanctuary given for the pure of heart and well-meaning. Even, however reluctantly, Wizards.

Sadly, there weren’t a lot of innocents left outside of their little piece of heaven.

A committee was being assigned for the planning of a grand city. A magical city, where all beings were equal and free. Dodders had long ago decided it would be their capital, and it would bear their saviors name, Harrysburg would be unrivaled.

-0-

Appoline reread the missive in her shaking hands a third time. A sanctuary for anyone pure of heart. An escape for her enclave. 

The self-named Dark Lord Voldemort had been attempting to enslave the veela nation. A few dozen of their numbers had vanished some time past, she’d worried that they’d been captured and pressed into--service. But, it wasn’t so. They had instead, found something that was much needed.

News spread like wildfire as near ten thousand souls prepared to leave. They would take only what was precious to them and start anew. 

With her husband's hand clasped firmly in her own, they managed to walk across the strongest ward lines she’d ever encountered. It felt as though they were judging her down to her marrow. They held her for some time before she felt a sense of approval. Then she was standing on the other side. 

Snapping her head to the side, she saw her husband had made it inside as well. Tears fell from her eyes in joy, “We’re free my darling,” she sobbed throwing her arms around his neck before peppering his face with kisses.


	6. hp/sw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hp/sw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/ Star Wars prequel trilogy crossover. Another crackpot story that never went anywhere. but, feel free to adopt the idea if the mood strikes you.

“Ginny asked about you again,” Hermione prompted as she pushed a plate of food in front of him.

Harry sighed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, there just never seemed to be time. They weren’t kids anymore. Life didn’t just click for them because there was a little bit of a spark. He knew that better than anyone. 

“Every time we try to date it just doesn’t work out, Hermione. I don’t want to try again,” he offered delicately.

She made a moue of protest but didn’t push the subject. 

“It isn’t just about Ginny. I mean look at us. It’s your birthday for Merlin’s sake and if I hadn’t brought over some take out, you wouldn’t have even remembered!” Hermione poked at him with a fork and shook her head.

Well, that was true. He’d forgotten that it was his birthday, but in his defense, things had been quite hectic at work this week.

“No.”

Harry quirked a brow and blurted, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. You work too much. It’s why you never go anywhere or see anyone. If you don’t want to date Ginny, what about Tracey Davis,” she hedged and continued when Harry didn’t immediately stop her.

“She transferred to my department last month. Tracey’s quite nice, nothing at all like I remember her from school.”

Harry waved his hands at Hermione as though to push the subject away entirely. He was too busy for a relationship right now, “No.”

“When was the last time you went somewhere for fun?” Hermione questioned with a triumphant glint to her eyes.

He sighed. A vacation? He wondered what those were like. The Dursley’s had always gone to places like Majorca, but that had never appealed to him. An adventure might be nice, he thought and shook his head ruefully. It was unlikely to happen. He hadn’t even had a real day off since he’d been made department head.

“Never?” Hermione blurted in horror.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if Hermione had picked up Legilimency. The woman always knew what he was thinking. 

“You’re thirty!” She screeched and pushed her plate aside.

“Only for a handful of hours. Merlin, Hermione. You make my life sound so horrible,” even if it kind of was, he didn’t need her to state it out loud.

She clucked her tongue and began shuffling through the mess inside her bottomless bag. One by one, the woman started stacking a wide array of books onto the tabletop. He eyed the pile in curiosity, more for the why than the what. Reading had never been a favorite past time of his and Hermione knew that.

“Arthur confiscated all of these from a book store in muggle London,” she chuckled.

“Er, alright. I’ll bite. Why was Arthur’s department called to a bookstore in muggle London? Are they cursed?”

Hermione practically crowed as she balanced on the very edge of her chair. 

“Someone enchanted a huge mess of muggle books to play out like real adventures. It wouldn’t have been a problem until someone else made off with them and put them in the muggle store. But they’re ever so clever. It’s like being in a Pensieve, only it’s interactive,” she gushed.

“Uh, you’ve been using something that the Ministry confiscated?” He asked wearily.

She waved a hand at him in protest and said, “Only Pride and Prejudice, I wasn’t the main character. Many of the people in the book acted shocked at my being there, but it was a lot of fun.”

Harry blinked at her owlishly. He couldn’t believe that Hermione had used something like that. She was normally so… law-abiding. And that was putting it delicately. 

“No. I know what you’re thinking, but they’re safe. I wasn’t the only one that used them. Whoever cast these enchantments was a genius. I’ve never seen their equal. Plus I wasn’t the first to try it,” she added defensively and crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her chin in defiance.

Oh, he knew that face. Well, she was the smart one, so they must be alright he supposed. Glancing over at the teetering tower of muggle books, Harry read through the titles. He was surprised to find that not many of them were classics. 

“Star Wars,” Harry said with growing enthusiasm and snatched the book from the center of the pile, causing the others to fall over.

Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice, Book one, he read. With a hum, he turned the book over to read through the description. 

“None of us have used any of the Star Wars books yet,” she offered with a hopeful expression and thrummed her fingers on the tabletop.

“How long does it last?” Harry asked.

He’d admit to being a little interested. It had space travel, pirates and Jedi, who wouldn’t be curious he thought and chuckled. 

“It will seem to last as long as the story does, but you’ll only be gone for a couple of hours,” she explained and bounced in her seat.

“Gone,” he repeated, not liking the sound of that one bit. It reminded him of the time that Tom Riddle’s diary had sucked into it. 

“It’s nothing like the diary Horcrux,” she stated as a matter of fact.

“Would you stop doing that? It’s creepy.” Harry whined and clutched the book tighter.

“Why don’t you try it out tonight? Admit it, you don’t have anything better planned.” Hermione’s tone was smug.

He wanted to disagree but quite honestly had no energy for it and besides, she wasn’t wrong. 

Harry listened to her explain how to activate the charms and held his hand over the book cover as he said the spells. The lettering on the cover began to glow a bright blue and almost swirl off the page like a muggle holographic. His eyes followed the dizzying display until it encompassed his hand and began to work its way up to Harry’s arm. His eyes shot to Hermione in panic but she just smiled.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Harry. May the force be with you.” She said.

Harry heard her snickering as he was pulled into the book completely.

-0-

When the light dissipated, Harry found himself standing in a well-lit hallway. To his front, Harry could just see a wide doorway leading into an open area with multiple fountains. 

“Where did you come from?”

Harry jerked and glanced over his shoulder. Standing next to him was a younger teenage boy. There was something familiar about him, at least Harry thought so. 

It was at this point that Harry realized, he didn’t know much about Star Wars. He’d only seen the first movie through the crack of his cupboard door. Once Aunt Petunia had seen that the Jedi were like space wizards, she’d thrown an epic fit. It was one of the only times Harry could remember his cousin Dudley being mad at her, as she’d forbidden Dudley from watching any of the others. 

Still, what he’d seen was amazing and it had stuck with him. The Jedi were impressive. Of course, then he’d learned about magic and that was real. He hadn’t needed fantasy movies to spurn him on, not when real life was just as fantastical.

So. Where was this?

The boy cleared his throat somewhat succinctly and quirked an auburn brow in question.

What had the boy asked? Oh. 

Harry shrugged, “I opened an enchanted book.”

The boy snorted and shook his head, “Sure.”

“Begging random masters now Oafey Wan!” another boy taunted and chortled meanly.

Harry turned to look at the newest arrival and was reminded of Draco Malfoy as a child. He shuddered at the comparison. A space wizard Malfoy, the galaxy was doomed.

“What do you want Bruck?” the boy in front of him huffed and rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, at that point, Harry realized the three of them had garnered quite a bit of attention. A small group of robed adults was headed their way and Harry wasn’t sure what would happen. Hermione had said the story would be interactive, but this was almost unscripted. 

There was building anticipation in the air. Harry had never really felt anything like it before. It was a bit like being at Hogwarts. The school had been full of magical children for so many centuries that it’d almost become sentient. Because of that, the very air at Hogwarts felt magical and this feeling was similar, just much stronger. At that comparison, Harry felt something surround him and squeeze gently almost like a hug.

As the children were ushered off, Harry was left in the company of two formidable-looking men. Both were watching him tensely. 

“This part of the temple isn’t open to the public.”

“Sorry, um…I don’t know how to leave,” Harry stammered as the man scowled and took a step forward.

“Master Windu, ask our guest where he came from, we should,” the small green man interrupted.

Harry blinked down at the small ancient man and offered, “An enchanted book.”

The heavy power in the air surrounded him once more and rang with approval. Harry blinked at that. How in the world did magic approve, it wasn’t alive for Merlin’s sake. Oh, but it wasn’t magic, was it? It was the Force. Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around how realistic this adventure book was, or how it had even been accomplished. 

The little green man hummed and tilted his head to the side. Harry watched in amusement as the man’s ears twisted in different directions. 

“The truth that was, at least the truth, he believes it to be,” the man rumbled. 

“Master Yoda, an enchanted book did not bring a stranger past the public areas of the temple,” Master Windu grumbled with a severe frown.

“Yoda!” Harry cheered in recognition.

The oldest and most powerful of the Jedi, at least he thought so. 

“Heard of me, you have?” Yoda questioned.

Harry nodded, “Hasn’t everyone?”

Even the stern-looking Master Windu seemed to find that amusing, “Indeed.”

“Tell us not, your purpose for visiting,” Yoda hummed and tapped his cane on the floor.

“Oh, um well, I suppose that I was just looking for an adventure,” Harry offered happily enough and then startled, “I’m Harry Potter, a wizard from the planet Earth,” he added with mirth and gave the two men a short bow.

“Earth, can’t say that I’ve heard of it,” Master Windu smirked and added, “Though it doesn’t surprise me one bit that a man from some backwater planet considers himself to be a wizard. Next, you’ll be telling us that magic itself brought you here.”

Yoda chided the taller Jedi and said, “Strong in the Force young Harry is. Look and you would see.”

Harry blinked owlishly behind his glasses. Well, he thought, that wouldn’t be too surprising. He was strong with the magic after all. Hard to be the chosen one and not be. Mentally he grumbled at that title and how it had haunted him his entire life. 

All he’d wanted was a vacation or at least the appearance of one. Hopefully, these two would get on with showing him to the door. Maybe then he could catch up to whatever storyline this book had and be on with it.

Yoda began to walk and motioned Harry to follow. As the three made their way along, the small man began talking about checking Harry’s blood for something. Harry’s brow furrowed in consternation. A medical check-up in the middle of an adventure book. He was going to kill Hermione when he made it home. 

The Jedi's medical wing was nothing like what Harry was used to. It was full of outlandishly futuristic equipment. Never mind that the woman who ran it seemed to have tentacles coming from the back of her skull. Well, he thought, she was nice if nothing else.

“Checking young Harry’s Midiclorian count, we were hoping to,” Yoda greeted the woman.

“No problem, Master Yoda. Just have a seat young Harry,” She winked and motioned to a nearby chair.

From a nearby station, the woman grabbed something that looked like a cross between a gun and a television remote. She held it to Harry’s arm and he felt a little pinprick. Lights on the front of it blinked before it beeped. 

“That’s not possible,” she said faintly as her purple eyes focused on the screen.

Yoda tapped her knee with his cane and held his hands out. 

“Maybe it’s broken?” She offered as she handed the device over.

“26,000?” Master Windu scoffed and shook his head, “Clearly this device is faulty.”

Yoda’s ears twitched as his head tilted to look up at Harry.

“What is it? Am I sick or something?” Harry scrambled a bit to look at the screen, not understanding what he was seeing.

“Brought here by an enchanted book, you said?” Yoda tapped his cane and then smacked Master Windu on the knee when the taller man huffed.

“Said that you were a wizard. What does this mean to you?” Yoda asked.

“Er, well. On my planet about ten percent of the population is magical.”

Master Windu laughed and said the word magic with heavy derision.

Harry cleared his throat and continued, “Anyway, yeah. So, as I said, about ten percent of us have magic. I went to school for it and then trained to be an Auror,” he offered.

At their blank questioning stare, Harry added, “Auror’s are peace officers. We uphold the law and chase down dark wizards.”

This statement drew some interest from the stoic Master Windu. 

“Speak to us of this enchanted book, you should,” Yoda insisted and leaned forward.

Harry looked up toward the ceiling and tried to dredge up the synopsis, “I think it followed a young Jedi to some planet called Bandit or something. Anyway, the story had Jedi and Space Pirates, some evil ex-JedI and a whole lot of adventure.”

They began to ask Harry questions about the book, which he found strange but answered none the less. It turned out that the first boy he’d spoken to in the hall was Obi-Wan Kenobi. None of those present had believed Harry when he said the boy would grow up to be one of the best Jedi ever.

Unfortunately, they did believe in the possibility of pirates attacking the ship that Obi was leaving on and now they were suspicious. Even going so far as to ask Harry to stay while they investigated. 

It was doubly unfortunate that Obi-Wan had already left for his adventure. Harry wondered what that meant for him. Would that mean that he just sat in some holding cell somewhere until Obi-Wan was back safely, only to disappear back into his kitchen with a smirking Hermione?

-0-

Day 2 - - - 

Harry scowled down at the bracelet on his wrist with vehemence. Somehow the thing blocked his magic or the force as these Jedi insisted he calls it. At least the cell was more like a Spartan bedroom, he thought and flung himself back against the bed. 

As far as vacations go, this one was a bust. Even he knew that and Harry had never been on one. The Jedi were vexed with anyone out in the galaxy having magical powers but them. Sure, they said it wasn’t a crime, but they acted like it was.

He’d been told that after their investigation was complete that they’d let him go. 

“Hey!” Harry groused toward the corner of the ceiling where he knew the camera was, or whatever they called the thing here.

A few moments passed before another Jedi strode down the corridor and addressed Harry from the glass entrance.

“Did you require something?”

“Er, look I know that I’m a prisoner but do you think that I could get a book or something?” Harry pleaded, even pouted a bit however childish it was.

He was desperately bored and a bored Harry was never a good thing. At that mischievous thought, Harry felt a tingle of magic work its way from his hand to his shoulder. This cuff kept him from casting. It did not, however, keep Harry from shifting into his Animagus form. Briefly, he considered just going for it. The looks on their faces would be worth whatever consequences came from it.

The guard blinked, his mouth opening and closing twice before he said, “You’re a person of interest in an open investigation. A man, might I remind, that professes to be from wild space. That doesn’t make you a criminal out of hand. Of course, you may have some reading materials. Was there anything, in particular, you had an interest in reading?” 

The Jedi ranted looking aggravated at the very idea that the order would imprison an innocent man. 

Harry cleared his throat and apologized hoping to unruffled some feathers. 

“I don’t normally read for entertainment, so whatever would work,” Harry said with a shrug.

The guard huffed and rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, you’re one of those that watches the holonet.”

“Er... .is that like the telly?” 

At the guard's blank look, Harry amended, “Theater?”

“Just so,” the man nodded.

“Look, I don’t care what you bring, but I’m tired of looking at the walls. You don’t want me to get any more bored than I am,” Harry warned.

The guard puffed up once again and Harry sighed. It hadn’t been a threat, more of a warning. Honestly, stupid things happened around Harry when he was bored.

Harry watched the other man walk away with concern. This whole adventure had been ill-planned. These people didn’t do anything for fun. He might as well have stayed at work. Despite what the Jedi thought, there wasn’t much difference between them. Harry chased dark wizards and fought criminals, sometimes guarded important people of note or kept the peace. Wasn’t that the same thing?

To prove that he’d taken slight to everything that Harry had said, the guard brought back two digital books. The first was the history of some mining colony on a desolate moon and the second a thesis on the evolution of primates on an uninhabited planet that was being studied. 

“Riveting,” Harry drawled as he looked between the two and tossed both onto the nightstand.

Well, there was nothing for it. He was going to have to escape. The magic around him felt rife with amusement. If he didn’t know any better, Harry would almost say it was laughing. 

Concentrating on that inner tingle of magic, Harry worked it up and down his body. Getting a feel for working around the cuff. He slides down onto the floor and got onto his hands and knees. With a jerk, his body began to shift. The slowness of it made the entire transformation painful, but once his paw had been pulled free from the cuff, Harry purred in delight. 

Working around that anti-magic cuff had taken it out of him. Harry gave a jaw cracking yawn and eyed the soft bed to his left. Maybe staying wouldn’t be so terrible. He didn’t want these Jedi to chase after him, not really. And sleeping all day was no issue in this form he thought.

Leaping back up onto the bed, Harry circled fussily until the spot was just right and plopped down, curling up into a little fluffy ball.

-0-

Master Yoda looked quite shocked, which in turn made him very nervous. It wasn’t like the ancient master to be surprised by anything. 

“Turn into a cat you say?” Yoda questioned with wide eyes.

The man nodded and handed the Grand Master a datapad with the recording. Even he had to admit it was quite the ability. It was doubly shocking that the man hadn’t tried to escape. The mysterious Harry Potter seemed to have used some unknown arcane ability to take a nap. It defied reason. 

-0-

Harry’s head jerked up and he stared muzzily at the wall as it shifted apart to let Yoda in. He blinked away the sleep, or tried to and yawned.

“Quite an ability this is,” Yoda greeted and hobbled forward, tapping his cane with each step.

Harry sniffed at Yoda’s hand as it approached him and sneezed causing the other man to chuckle. 

“Heard we have from Master Qui-Gon and young Obi-Wan. Returning to the temple they are. Much strife and hardships did they face, many playing out as you foretold.” Yoda said matter of fact and tilted his head at the doorway.

“Cleared of involvement you have been, though many still question your origin.”

Harry stood up and stretched his front paws in front of him, arching his back with a rumbled purr.

“Invite you to stay, I would. Much there is to learn from one another,” Yoda murmured and gave Harry a wistful look.

He gave his best shrug, which probably didn’t translate well in cat form, but Harry was comfortable. 

“The evening meal will start soon,” Yoda offered and hopped down from the bed.

Yoda sure was spry for an old guy, Harry thought and hopped down after him. He trots alongside the aged Jedi Master. Unless something interesting happened, Harry thought he might just stay like this until the story ended and he was sent home. Being a cat made everything acceptable. Of course, that had everything to do with being able to sleep twenty hours a day.

Yoda kept glancing down at him with a genuine look of mirth. 

They caused quite the scene as Harry walked into the dining hall with Yoda. Several of the younger initiates were wide-eyed with curiosity. Some of the little blighters looked grab happy, causing Harry to walk faster past those tables.

Yoda took a seat with the other masters and motioned to the empty chair beside him. Harry leaped up and looked around in interest.

“Master Yoda, why do you have a cat?”

Yoda chuckled in merriment a waved a hand, “See a cat do you?”

Yoda harrumphed at the look that was returned and said, “Master Dooku, meet Harry Potter.”

This Dooku fellow looked from Harry to Yoda with incredulity, “Surely you jest?”

“You are the unknown force wielder that had the entire council worried?” Master Dooku scoffed and gave his head a shake, leaning in to get a closer look at Harry.

Harry blinked, his eyes nearly crossing as he watched the older man. The trio was interrupted by a droid that took food orders. Harry’s mouth watered at the mere thought of food. Another benefit to this form was nearly anything was edible, even some things that shouldn’t be, not that Harry would ever admit to having eaten anything questionable. 

“The Mon Calla fish selection for our friend here, I think,” Yoda told the droid wisely.

Harry nodded at the choice and licked his whiskers, much to the amusement of the others nearby. 

“Are you going to eat like that?”

He blinked up at the white-haired Jedi and nodded. Why shouldn’t he?

Master Dooku sighed at the small defiance and turned to Yoda, “It makes me think of what Qui-Gon might be like, were he feline.”

Yoda cackled.

-0-

Life settled into a staycation of sorts. Against the protest of more than half the Jedi council, Yoda let Harry shadow him all day in cat form. When things got boring, he slept. Which generally meant that Harry spent more than half the day sleeping. There was only one portion of the day that Harry looked forward to. Yoda taught a class in the morning at the creche. The younglings, as they were called, all loved Harry. Even though Jedi weren’t supposed to feel such things, but they were after all small children. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi and his new Master Qui-Gon were set to arrive back at the temple sometime today. Harry thought that meant he’d just disappear, so he took extra care to cheer the little tots. 

“Yes, we push it with the force. How high can we make the ball go?” Yoda gently focused on hovering the ball over a three-year-old Togruta.

Harry sneaked over to her and purred as the girl accomplished the feat without aid.

“Very good,” Yoda praised and tried to shoo Harry away.

Togruta’s were so neat looking, Harry thought and wished their species lived on Earth. Sure, they had Veela and Merfolk but some of the aliens here were just so much more. 

Yoda’s communicator beeped. Harry turned his head toward the man as the recorded message played. His ears perked up. Master Qui-Gon’s ship had just arrived. 

“Feel your anticipation in the Force, I do,” Yoda hummed and closed his eyes.

Harry had seen the little being do this on several occasions. Some of the Jedi not only did so to meditate, but to focus their prescient abilities to see into the future. 

“Clouded your future still is,” Yoda admitted as he floated a second ball to the other side of the room.

Harry’s tail flicked in agitation. There shouldn’t be any future here for him at all. This wasn’t even real, no matter how much it seemed like it was. Everyone here was like a character from a video game. 

Yoda harrumphed and narrowed his eyes, “Trust in the Force you should. Think you that something is impossible?” 

The little Togruta toddled over and floated the ball to Harry, lifting her hands up and up, “Up Harry.”

“Impossible, for a human to be a cat, yes?” Yoda chided and smiled at the girl.

Harry worked on the trick he’d figured out two days ago. The Force gathered at a point above his head and he shoved. The ball jumped up toward the ceiling causing the girl to clap happily.

Well, impossible or not, the book had run its course. Anytime now, Harry would be transported back home. The Force swelled around his body and grieved. Harry gasped at the feeling and glanced over at Yoda, catching the other man’s frown. 

“Listen, you should. The Force rarely speaks to us so clearly. Destiny, you have,” Yoda announced and then turned his attention back to the lesson.

Magic never felt like that. Harry was so confused. It was overwhelming that he hadn’t just vanished the second the Master and Padawan duo had arrived. Harry’s brain hurt just thinking about it. The rest of the lesson was spent quietly brooding, making sure not to let those negative thoughts leak out to the children as Yoda had instructed him to.

The walk back to Yoda’s chamber that afternoon was subdued. Harry sat patiently on the woolen mat and waited for Yoda to finish brewing the thick bitter water the being called tea. It was a bit of a ritual the other man had. 

“Join me this time, you should,” Yoda floated two bowls of thick dark tea onto opposite sides of the mat.

Harry sighed and shifted back into a man. His body nearly protesting the change. A sign that he’d spent too long in the form. It made him think of how rat-like Pettigrew had looked and Harry shuddered. 

“I should have gone back home, but I’m still here and I don’t know why?” Harry murmured and picked up the bowl of tea that been left for him.

He took a tentative sip and found that the concoction was much more palatable to a human, good even. 

“Believe you do, that this is not real. False this assumption is. The book was about young Obi-Wan, yes?” Yoda poured more tea into Harry’s bowl from a floating pitcher.

“Yes,” Harry offered succinctly.

“More than once you referred to Young Obi-Wan as Old Ben. Old Ben, he is not. Not yet. Obi-Wan’s story will not end for quite some time,” Yoda sounded almost smug at the opinion.

Harry, however, was panicking. What did that mean? Obi-Wan had died an old man in the movie Harry had seen. Was he going to be stuck here for decades? Harry’s heart began to beat overtime at that thought. Dear Merlin, that was decades from now. If he aged in this place, he could be spat back out into his kitchen an old man. 

-0-

Harry tried to settle into this new existence with as much grace as he could manage. No matter how annoying he found this Jedi order, he was grateful that they agreed to keep him. Of course, that also meant a work up in medical.

“I’m sorry, did you say near human?” Harry asked incredulously.

Stass Allie merely hummed, “You did not know?”

Harry shook his head and Jedi Allie handed him a readout.

“Based on the tests we can say, without doubt, you originate from outside of the known galaxy. Though human, there exists an extra gland in your brain,” she tapped the image and showed it to Harry.

“What it’s purpose is, I could only speculate, though I imagine it might be what allows you to use the Force as you do. There have been similar results in near humans that are suspected of having descended from the Celestials.”

Harry nodded numbly. His type of human existed in this maybe-real world. Or, he was losing his mind and the book was changing to suit him.

“Your blood is far from baseline as well. It is so unique that you might even have issues with blood transfusions,” she continued and pulled up another page.

“Then there’s this. You do not appear to be aging.”

Harry blinked at the report. If this wasn’t real, well that was fantastic, but if it was. . . Hermione was a dead woman if he ever got home.

“Would it bother you to share these results with Master Yoda?” Allie asked politely.

“Only on one condition,” Harry smirked at the scandalized look on the healer’s face.

“And what might that be,” she bit out.

“That you let me leave,” he teased and laughed.

She tried to fight it, but eventually laughed as well and let him leave the halls of healing.

The little green troll was already reading about him by the time Harry got back to the man’s chambers. Yoda hummed and patted the mat, offering Harry a bowl of tea.

“Decided you are,” Yoda insisted and then gave Harry a genuine smile.

-0-

“A Celestial,” Mace muttered gruffly and paced the chamber.

Several of those in attendance were similarly vexed. The species was more myth than fact and thought to be the origin of beings capable of using the Force. Artifacts that the race had left behind upon their disappearance from the galaxy, were still so advanced that modern science couldn’t explain them or replicate them. 

“Learn from him, we will,” Yoda shrugged as though what he’d suggested wasn’t in opposition to everything they’d lived by for the last millennia.

“You can’t mean to do this! He’s too old to train, Master Yoda,” Saesee Tiin complained and shot an imploring look at Master Windu.

“Decided, this is,” Yoda ignored any other objections and opened the floor for the next item on their agenda.

“Speak we must of Xanatos DuCrion. . .”

Mace listened to the rest of the discussion with one ear while the rest of his consciousness obsessed with their new pet Celestial. Force, why wouldn’t Master Yoda see reason? If even half of the myths were true, Potter’s race was more deadly than any Sith ever was. Worse, they didn’t need to fall to be dangerous.

He jumped when Yoda’s glimmer stick smacked into his calf. It was only then that Mace realized the meeting was over and they were the only two left in the room.

“Think we should send him out into the galaxy alone, do you?” Yoda pursed his lips and walked around until he was standing before Mace.

Mace considered what that might mean. He imagined the man being captured and experimented upon, of others using him and shivered. What could someone accomplish if they bred an army from Potter’s DNA?

“See you do, how poorly this could turn out for young Harry. I will train him,” Yoda grumbled.

His head lowered in recognition, giving his Master a respectful nod. 

“Learn from him as well, the Jedi will,” Yoda continued seemingly ignorant of Mace’s inner turmoil.

Mace felt the ripples of that statement echo through his body like a sledgehammer. Closing his eyes, he focused on the Force, seeking out Potter. The mysterious man was as vibrant as the sun. Shatterpoints bent around him on a whim. He was the biggest vergence that Mace had ever encountered. 

“The Force has been clouded of late. Disturbing in its lack of clarity,” Yoda gave Mace a look of triumph.

“Around young Harry, see the future we can.”

“The future is always in motion,” Mace protested, throwing the aged Master’s saying back in reply.

Yoda hummed and gave a thoughtful nod, “Yes. But see anything, we did not. Darkness grows and shadows our view. All but what stretches out before young Harry.”

“Potter isn’t the chosen one,” Mace stated.

“No,” Yoda agreed.

-0-

Harry chortled, looking from the clippers to the Padawan holding them. 

“No.”

“But, Padawan Potter, it’s tradition,” the young man insisted.

Trying his best not to laugh, he thought about an Adam Sandler skit he’d listened to years ago. It revolved around joining a cult and getting a free haircut. A parallel that was certain to anger his hosts. 

“We’ll just braid one little section, but you aren’t buzzing the rest of it,” Harry said sternly.

“I will have to confer with Master Yoda,” the man acquiesced.

With a snort, Harry replied, “Yoda doesn’t even have hair. He doesn’t get an opinion.”

The Padawan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at Harry’s blatant disrespect. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Yoda. It was just an overall dislike of the order’s many ancient traditions. The Padawan haircut was merely the latest Harry had learned of. If he were going to rant about some of the more shady dealings of the Jedi order, Harry would start with them taking only toddlers and babies in arms. 

Before he could seriously mire himself into a mental rant about the situation, the Padawan began to pull a section of his hair into a small braid behind one ear. If the tugs were a little harsher than they needed to be, well Harry had goaded the kid. 

These rules of theirs all seemed to be set aside on a whim anyway. They spoke of no attachments, but members of failing species were given leave to have spouses and produce children. The humans had to have a braid, but over half of the Jedi had tentacles instead of hair. Not to mention their taking in exceptionally powerful older children, and now him.

Harry wondered if they would expect him to find a spouse and make more Celestials. Merlin, if this turned out to be an adventure book and not Potter luck went amuck, Harry was going to lose his mind when he was taken back home. Especially if he bonded with these people, or god forbid, fell in love with someone here.

“Dark your thoughts are,” Yoda wandered into the room, never noticing or caring that Harry didn’t have the traditional cult haircut. 

Focusing on his inner calm, Harry used the Force techniques he’d already been taught, to release his fear and worry into the Force. He’d give them this, that was a useful skill. He’d never been so emotionally balanced in his life. 

“Master Drallig will start to teach you the basics of Dem-Sho today, my young Padawan.”

Yoda always looked so entirely smug when he called Harry that. It made the wizard shake his head and chuckle, “Yes Master.”

“Try you will, to use a Kyber crystal as your foci instead of the wand,” Yoda instructed.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, that wasn’t a terrible idea. If it worked, it would make this whole Jedi thing much easier. 

The walk to the training salles was silent. This time of the day most of the younger people that lived in the temple were attending classes. Without the noise of children, there was only the soft pattering of fleet-footed Masters and Knights, all walking and living as quietly as possible. 

A glance above showed the viewing gallery closed for which Harry was grateful. He didn’t need to embarrass himself in front of the more seasoned Jedi. 

Yoda nudged Harry forward to introduce him to the formidable-looking man. He was tall with long blond hair that was streaked with a steely gray. The man’s features were severe, which made Harry think the classes would be as well.

“I instruct several classes and am also a member of the temple guard. For that reason, I will not accept anything less than your best. You will come at the proffered time, knowing your katas, or you will leave,” the man stated matter of fact.

Harry gulped and wondered if Drallig knew that he’d never had a single sword lesson in his life. Somehow he didn’t think to shove a sword through the mouth of a giant snake counted as knowing what he was doing. This was going to be terrible, he was certain.

“See you at tea, I will,” Yoda whirled his glimmer stick in one hand and turned away, walking out of the training salle without a care in the world. 

Harry wanted to curse the tiny man for leaving him behind. 

“We will start with form one,” the expression on Drallig’s face spoke of his belief in Harry’s ability, or lack thereof as it was.

“No.” The man ran through the kata once more and then corrected Harry’s stance.

“We aren’t just swinging a Lightsaber about. You must learn to move with the guidance of the Force.”

Harry fell back into the meditative state that Yoda had been hammering into his head by way of glimmer stick. Even with the violence, the little troll was a much better instructor than Snape ever had been. Of course, Harry hadn’t had the Force to guide him through Occlumency, just Snape’s repeated jibes.

The Force thickened around him as Harry watched Drallig skillfully go through the entire kata once more. An echo of it hummed in his mind when Harry began his kata. Do or do not, wasn’t that the phrase? 

“Good, again!”

A swift correction to his left shoulder nearly sent Harry to the mats. With a grunt, Harry adjusted his stance and started over.

“Again.”

-0-

Four months into his saber training, Harry got the pleasure of a second set of them each day. While Drallig beat form one into his head, Harry was further exhausted by Yoda each afternoon. 

Harry watched Yoda jump up and land on air, only to twist and jump higher, before flipping onto the ground in front of him.

“Do, or do not. There is no try,” Yoda said in way of encouragement.

His mouth opened and closed twice before he stammered, “I don’t think that I can--ouch!”

With a glare at Yoda’s glimmer stick, Harry focused on the Force and imagined an invisible stair made of air. Even with his concentration focused as it was, Harry stumbled the second he realized it had worked. 

“Again. Do this, we will until you succeed.”

Harry groaned and pushed himself off the mat. Thinking of all the ways the ability would be useful, Harry gave the exercise his all. By the end of their session, Harry could make it up to the top of his staircase and flip to the ground, though he’d yet to master any of Yoda’s other maneuvers.

“Almost ready to learn, you are.”

Harry despaired over that insight as Yoda led the way to their shared quarters. 

“Practiced channeling force through the Kyber crystal have you?”

With a sigh, Harry trudged along. While he was somewhat interested in seeing what would happen, right now all Harry wanted was food and a nap maybe not even in that order.

“Ouch! Damn it!”

-0-

Yoda peered over at Mace impishly as they and several other masters watched Harry’s first duel. 

“His form is sloppy,” Saesee Tiin observed.

Mace couldn’t help but agree. Padawan Potter had been training under Master Yoda for an entire year. He’d been expecting better results than this. The reason they didn’t take older students wasn’t that they couldn’t learn to wield a Lightsaber. It was the fact that fighting was normally all they were good at. 

“Send Padawan Billaba at Master Dooku, would you?” Yoda harrumphed and side-eyed the lot of them.

Well, when he put it like that, no. Mace thought his Padawan wouldn’t be ready to meet a swordsman of Dooku’s skill for some time yet and she’d been training for several years. 

Master Dooku had been on the offensive since the first move. In less than a minute he had Padawan Potter locked in, right at the edge. One more step and the younger man would be eliminated.

He felt it the same time his eyes saw it happen. One second, Padawan Potter was boxed in and the next he was just gone, but oh how the Force sang. Mace wasn’t the only master in the viewing balcony that gasped and leaned forward.

Yoda chuckled.

-0-

Yan Dooku was a bastard. Harry was certain that the man was a big faker and not a Jedi at all. He half expected the man to pull out a wand and try to Avada Kedavra him. 

Dodging another forceful overhead strike, Harry once more found himself firmly backed into the edge of the mats. The older man was just too good of a swordsman to beat. Well, unless he cheated, Harry thought and smirked up at the stoic Master.

Yan quirked a brow in surprise, the only show of emotion since the battle had started. That was how little energy it was taking to counter Harry.

Destination, determination and damn it, something else that starts with D. Damn it, Harry thought again and apparated behind Dooku. Harry’s Lightsaber rested on the crook of the older man’s neck.

“Checkmate,” Harry crowed much to the disapproval of everyone but Yoda.

Surprisingly, old Dooku wasn’t mad about losing. Sure, all Jedi were supposed to be these emotionless monk warriors, but Harry had watched Dooku enough to know that the man had a dark streak. 

Master Dooku immediately disengaged his Lightsaber and bowed to Harry.

“How do you do that?” the man asked with sincere curiosity.

“The three D’s, just don’t ask me what the third one is,” Harry muttered.

At Dooku’s unimpressed look, Harry said, “How about I apparate with you, and then you can tell me if you’d like to learn?”

Harry smirked when the man didn’t even hesitate. Wrapping his hand around the Dooku’s wrist, Harry twisted through space and dragged them over toward the benches where they appeared with a small pop. He’d never quite gotten side along to be silent.

Dooku bent over and gagged, but Harry had to hand it to the old guy, he didn’t lose his lunch. 

“The first times always the worst,” he offered and slapped the man on the shoulder.

“Where were we?” Yan panted, pressing his hands against his knees as he tried to recover his dignity.

Harry shrugged, “Never really thought about it.”

“Never thought about it,” Yan wheezed and coughed into his fist.

“Er sorry?” He hedged and glanced up at the viewing room that Yoda was sitting in.

“I’d like a rematch, but only if we can stipulate you not using that ability,” the man said as he unfolded.

“Sure,” Harry agreed.

It wasn’t like apparition was his only trick, after all, Harry thought somewhat mischievously. He had no intention of losing to Dooku today.

The pair walked back out to the center of the Salle and stood across from one another. Harry bowed back and immediately brought his Lightsaber up to block another of the old man’s devastating blows. He had to be using the Force to add power behind his strikes. They shook the bones in Harry’s arms even when he parried them off on the edge of his sword. 

Harry flipped back and landed on one of his stairs, just out of strike range. Unfortunately, Yoda had been Dooku’s master as well and the older man just followed him up. He felt the sting of the next strike burn through his tunic. With a hiss, Harry conceded defeat, perhaps it had been a little arrogant to assume Dooku wouldn’t win, he thought ruefully.

“You rely on those tricks entirely too often,” Dooku critiqued.

Harry rolled his eyes and without thinking said, “If this were a real battle, I wouldn’t just be apparating across the mat.”

Dooku looked more intrigued than anything, “Perhaps a demonstration?”

“Uh, I don’t know if, Master Yoda would want me to do that . . .” Harry trailed off and looked up at the viewing stall.

“Can’t you feel his curiosity?” Dooku retorted.

“Fine. You want a demonstration, or are you going to attack me?” Harry asked.

Dooku’s smile promised more saber burns as the older man walked back to the center of the mat. Harry followed along rolling his eyes to the ceiling and tossed his Lightsaber out of bounds. He dropped his wand into his hand and bowed to Dooku.

The shield Harry cast held against a full-powered strike from Dooku without even a wobble. Harry attached it to his left forearm and began to chain silent spells in the other man’s direction. Incarcerous, Petrificus Totalus, Tarrentarella were all bounced back in Harry’s direction with the Lightsaber. That was interesting he thought, and useful knowledge to have as he’d not known that was possible.

Flagellum, Harry thought and whipped the long strand of fire at Dooku. The other man’s eyes grew wide in surprise as he flipped through the air and out of harm’s way. Harry apparated to where he thought the other man would land and hit him in the back with an Incarcerous. 

Dooku fell to the mat bound up in heavy conjured ropes. With a wave of his hand, Harry freed Dooku.

“Best three out of five?” Dooku asked with a look of deep amusement.

Harry chuckled and held out a hand to help the other man up, “Sure.”

-0-

“What was that?” Saesee Tiin said with what sounded like horrified awe.

Secretly Mace didn’t blame him. That ability Padawan Potter used to teleport across the Salle made the Force sing in joy. It was difficult to feel intension or even pinpoint the man’s location under the onslaught. Was it Potter’s joy, he wondered, or did the Force just favor the man that much more than everyone else?

“Trained by his people, my Padawan already was,” Yoda hummed and clapped his hands, “Padawan Billaba is next, yes?”

Mace nodded, happy to see that Potter was leaving the room. He didn’t want to think about anyone other than a Master fighting with Potter. Not if the man was going to use those abilities of his. 

Saesee Tiin chose that moment to ask what many of them were thinking, “Can any of those abilities be learned?”

Yoda simply smiled and held out one hand. Above his palm, a ball of light hovered. It was made of pure force and felt like clarity. 

He wasn’t the only one that shifted forward to try and touch the light.

-0-

It became commonplace for Harry to have practice duels with Dooku on the days that Master Yoda hadn’t completely exhausted him. The older man had gotten much better at anticipating, Harry’s tricks as he called them. Which was unfortunate, but had worked to make Harry better with the saber. He was still in no way able to beat the master swordsman in a duel that didn’t involve apparition, but he did last longer than a couple of minutes.

Because Yoda had so many responsibilities, Harry’s master had taken to leaving him in the care of Master Dooku more often than not. If the other man minded, he never voiced it. Some of the other masters in the temple had even begun referring to Harry as Dooku’s apprentice. 

“This week, some research you will do on the government and recent history of Melida/Daan,” Yoda instructed as they readied themselves for the day.

“Master?”

“Going there soon, Master Tahl is for mediation. With her, you will go.” 

Harry blinked. He’d never been sent on a mission before. And now his first would be with a master he’d never met. That was slightly disconcerting, he thought. As much time as he spent with Master Dooku, Harry had just assumed he’d be sent out with that man. Since the older man had an interest in galactic politics, Harry hadn’t been looking forward to that. Dooku spent a great deal of time in the Senate building and the 500 Republica block, visiting various dignitaries. 

Chapter two ----- 

As the night grew late, Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the chair by the fireplace. She’d taken to haunting the sitting room whilst awaiting Harry’s return. Time, however, seemed to be at a near standstill. 

With a huff of irritation, Hermione placed a marker into the book she’d been reading and placed it on the nearby table. Surely, Harry should have returned by now, Hermione thought and glanced around for a clock. Not finding one, she reached for her wand and found it missing. Realizing it must still be on the dining room table by her beaded bag, Hermione trekked back to the kitchen.

It was as she reached for the wand that Hermione finally noticed it. The adventure book that Harry had used…was gone. As panic began to settle in, Hermione first turned her attention to the stack of books she’d set aside. Running her finger down the spines, she read the titles, wincing when it failed to turn up, Harry’s book.

Hermione took the time to separate all of the Star Wars books, praying she’d only misremembered the title. It was as she came across a book entitled, The Last Apprentice, book one, that Hermione saw a familiar face. There on the cover was a rendering of Harry Potter. He was wearing a brown robe and holding a green Lightsaber. She gasped and turned the book over, quickly reading the summary.

Grand Master of the Jedi, Yoda, had voiced for several years, he would not take another apprentice. The Force, however, has other ideas, placing an unknown man with previously unseen abilities in Yoda’s path. This vergence in the Force could not be left untrained. 

As Yoda begins to train, Padawan Potter, he learns a great many things. The future is always in motion… 

Hermione let the book thump back onto the tabletop with a curse. Casting a quick Tempus, she realized it had been five hours since Harry had left. Rubbing her hands over her eyes, Hermione decided it would be better to bring the book to Kingsley and get his opinion on their next step.

He was going to murder her for using confiscated items. 

“Only you, Harry,” she muttered and threw some Floo powder into the fireplace.

-0-


	7. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metamorphmagus Harry. A vindictive Petunia raises Harry to hate Albus Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story contains child abuse and neglect, some muggle baiting and bigotry.

Identity

October 31st, 1981

Albus left the boy on Petunia’s doorstep hoping for the best but knew even if he was condemning the child to the worst, he’d be safe from Tom’s followers. Never in his heart of hearts could he have imagined what he’d set the boy up to suffer. What he himself would reap. 

-0-

Petunia hadn’t wanted the boy. Vernon screamed and ranted, insisting that protection or not, they would be taking him to an orphanage. But that threat had niggled in the back of her mind. What if that protection was necessary? There was also the idea that the freaks were watching. She half thought that if they dumped the boy, they would know. So it was that however unwanted, little Harry Potter, came to live with them.

That first day had been a real shock. She’d noticed the smell and had glared at the child. It wasn’t until she got the diaper off that she really noticed the baby was--different. Most toddlers were androgynous, but the little freak took that one step further. It appeared to be a hermaphrodite. Disgust rolled through her gut at the sight. She told herself right then that the child wouldn’t be staying in the same room as her Dudley for very long. Once Vernon got home from work they’d head to the shops and buy a cot.

The next morning she went in to get her little darling and found the freak awake. It was quieter than her Dudley and those eyes unnerved her. So green they almost seemed to glow. Unnatural, like everything else about it. 

“Hi!” Harry greeted her, near unintelligibly. It rankled her that the little freak was already talking, but this morning it did something that really got her blood up. It was floating one of Dudley’s stuffed animals around. The toy hovered by itself in the air, turning in circles above the unnatural thing’s head. To her shock and dismay, the child’s hair and eyes turned the same brilliant yellow of the toy. 

Petunia snatched the stuffed lion from the air and berated the child, “Don’t play with Dudley’s toys, they aren’t for you!”

It sniffled and started to cry. She smacked the child for having the audacity to complain, the little thief. Roughly grabbing it, she trundled the thing down the stairs and opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and chucked it in. She ignored the cries of the thing and locked the door. Back upstairs she made sure her Dudley hadn’t been affected by the freaks magic.

-0-

Eventually, they put in a cot and a small used dresser. It was more than the thing deserved, but they tried. Vernon blustered but she’d even given some of Dudley’s old castoffs to it. After all, those freaks had dropped it off on their doorstep without even a change of clothes. 

The situation wasn’t ideal but they made it work for two years. Around that time, they began to teach it how to earn their keep. She had it helping her with the laundry and cleaning. At the age of four, it was nearly self-sufficient. 

Out of sight and out of mind, kept her husband's temper in check. She might not love the little freak but she didn’t like the gleam in Vernon’s eye either. She wouldn’t have outright violence in her house. The entire situation was untenable. Vernon had always had a bit of a temper, lord only knew what her husband would do without constraints. The first time he’d hit Harry, Petunia laid down the law. It was one thing to berate it, or make it work, quite another to beat a child. Even one as unloved and unwanted as Harry.

There had been other instances of its magic, but nothing so far that a few days alone didn’t take care of. With the exception of its strange looks. No matter how many times she cut the little freak’s hair, it grew right back. Other times its face changed, not drastically but more than should have been possible. Albus’ name became a curse word in their household.

-0- 

When it was finally old enough to send to school, they couldn’t. Sometime around the freaks fourth birthday, its looks started drastically shifting. In the morning, it might be a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, by evening the thing could be a purple-haired boy. 

How could they send a thing like that out into the real world? They couldn’t even let Harry outside, even had to make sure and hide it in the evenings that there was company. She and Vernon were so very glad they’d made the decision early on to never tell his family of the child’s existence. 

They put the law down with Dudley and made sure he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that Harry lived with them. Even went so far as to not allow Dudley to see the other child. It was allowed out of the cupboard during the day whilst her darling was out with his friends or at school, and then again at night while they were sleeping. Better that, than not at all, she thought with derision.

-0-

Things went as well as could be expected. Until that nosy bitch from Wisteria lane butted her crooked nose into their business. Showing up out of nowhere to tell them she was available to babysit. Walking past the house over and over with a gaggle of strange-looking cats following her like dogs. Petunia was convinced she was one of them. Finally, after weeks of harassment, she’d worked up the nerve to outright say it.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Petunia questioned with more than a small amount of anger and resentment, continuing on without waiting for an answer. 

“We took the boy in and did as Albus ask. Tell him, if he doesn’t like the way we’re raising Harry, by all means, come and take the little freak.”

“I’m not,” Mrs. Figg shook her head in frustration, “One of them, but he did ask me to keep an eye on Harry. Petunia your nephew isn’t a freak!”

Petunia gave the other woman an ugly sneer, “If you say so, be sure and tell the headmaster the option is open for him to come and take the child at any time.”

She slammed the door on Figg’s shocked face and stomped back toward the kitchen to start lunch. That evening she’d told Vernon what had happened and they agreed to keep an eye out for anything strange in the neighborhood. In the meantime, if no one showed up to take the child, they’d need to do something.

If the school found out there was a child living with them that wasn’t enrolled, she wasn’t even sure what would happen. Harry couldn’t pass as a normal child and had no paperwork. They couldn’t even take Harry in to get the things they’d need to register for homeschooling. Damn Albus straight to hell.

After mentioning such to her husband she’d been surprised when the reply had only been, “Suppose you could go to the library and check out some books. They have to have some publications about teaching children to read and their numbers.”

Petunia gave her husband a gimlet eye, it wouldn’t be him teaching it. As though he could read her mind, Vernon said, “Pet, the freak needs to know how to read and write and do basic arithmetic. How else will it earn its keep as it gets older if it can’t?”

She supposed he had a point. If it could read she could teach it to cook dinner or bake. It would also need to understand measurements to do that.

“I suppose I can look into it,” she shrugged and tried to remain calm about her new lot in life.

Petunia had always imagined the perfect life, with her perfectly normal husband and a beautiful perfect son. The freak had ruined all of that. It was just like her horrible sister, ruining her life from beyond the grave. The little freak should have died with its parents. 

The thought of Lily made her flush with anger, she tried never to think of her sister. It was lucky in a way, that Harry looked nothing like her. Or, she thought, that horribly arrogant man that Lily had married.

“Wasn’t there an old trunk with my parent's things?” She asked Vernon, thoughts of Lily had brought the old thing to mind.

“If there was it’s in the attic,” he shrugged and helped himself to another piece of cake, “Why?”

“Mother homeschooled my sister after she started acting like a freak. There might be some of her old books in the trunk,” Petunia scowled and tossed her napkin onto her plate having lost her appetite. 

-0-

Albus never came for Harry, even though Petunia was certain that Figg had told him everything she’d said. It was almost like he didn’t care. Hadn’t the letter said that the freak was famous in their world? Just another reason to never trust a word one of them said. They weren’t like real people. 

With another week gone and no contact, she resolved herself to try and teach it. The idea of spending more time with the freak made her skin crawl, but what else could she do? Another thought of Albus ran through her mind and for a second, Petunia had an insidious thought. 

She banged on the cupboard door, “Up!”

“There’ll be no laying about, get UP!” She yelled and stomped into the kitchen. 

Lots of things to get done today, and she wouldn’t have that little freak being a layabout. She jumped in fright when she turned around and found it standing silently behind her. This morning it was a girl with pink hair and red eyes, she shuddered in revulsion. She would have revenge on that old wizard if it was the last thing she did. 

-0-

“Your breakfast is on the counter after you eat you’re to go into the attic and look for a trunk. Do you know what that is?” Aunt Petunia added after a thought.

Harry‘s pink hair flopped forward with a frantic head shake, “No, sorry.”

“Figures,” Petunia muttered pushing the plate of toast and eggs forward, “Eat so we can get started.”

“The trunk we’re looking for is a wooden box about this large,” she motioned with her hands, “It will have a metal lock on the front.”

Harry nodded while eating as fast as possible, knowing it was likely that Aunt Petunia would take the food back and throw it away just for spite. There were many times that food was withheld because others were in the house. Last night someone that worked with uncle Vernon had come to dinner, so there had been no leaving the cupboard. Sometimes the door was unlocked, making stealing food later in the night possible, but last night the door stayed locked.

It had never occurred to Harry to go into the attic, making it seem more of an adventure than a chore. Aunt Petunia waited down below as Harry crawled through the sea of dusty boxes, trying to avoid any spiders. Just one of the things Harry did to make life bearable, was to turn every little thing into a game. To make it across the space without touching any of the spider webs was the goal of this one.

Harry paused when the trunk came into view. It looked more than a bit like a pirate’s chest. A smirk made its way to Harry’s face at the imagined treasure inside. Perhaps Aunt Petunia might even leave it out and unlocked, for exploration while the others slept tonight. 

Grabbing the handle, Harry pulled at the trunk as hard as possible. With a grunt of effort, the dusty relic began to move. Getting behind it, Harry pushed the trunk all the way over to Aunt Petunia. She scowled, a common occurrence, truly Harry wasn’t sure the women even knew how to smile. 

“Get it downstairs and clean all the dirt off of it,” she ordered and crossed her arms over her chest walking away.

Harry wiped the sweat off onto a shirtsleeve and huffed. Running down the hallway with a quickness, Harry grabbed an old towel out of the ragbag and hurried back. It wouldn’t do to keep her waiting. After giving the trunk a good wipe down, it was half pushed down the stairs. Harry’s eyes widened in horror and turned black as the trunk handle slipped from sweaty slippery hands and thumped down the last three steps. 

“What are you doing you little freak? Get the trunk in here without breaking it or I swear you won’t eat for a week!” Petunia yelled up.

Harry’s stomach growled at the very idea of that threat being carried out. She’d do it too. Luckily Harry was getting very good at breaking out of the cupboard. Glancing out the window, Harry thought of running far away and dreamt of being outside and free. 

“Good,” Petunia grunted and crossed the living room sitting at the very end of the couch, “Push it over here and let us get this done,” she motioned to the empty space in front of her.

Harry did as asked, waiting impatiently to see what was inside, letting out a little sigh at the sight of books. Aunt Petunia began pulling them out and putting them into different stacks. 

Petunia grumbled setting a small pile aside then sneered at something further inside the trunk. She pulled out a stack of slim square books barely touching them like they were something bad. She dumped them on the floor. They scattered at Harry’s feet. 

Harry’s eyes bugged out and turned a vivid green as the picture on one of the covers moved. 

“Those are your mother’s old yearbooks from that freak school she and your louse of a father went to,” Petunia scoffed at Harry.

“What’sa yearbook?” Harry asked in a small voice, eyeing the moving picture with something akin to longing.

In an unparalleled moment of kindness, the likes of which Harry had yet to ever witness, Aunt Petunia didn’t yell or sneer. Instead, she said, “Some schools put out a book each year so that the children who attend can remember their time there. Not that you will ever experience that,” she muttered then winced, “If you’d like, you may have these.”

Harry plopped down on the ground and picked up the top book, jerking when Petunia growled, “Do not ever let your uncle or Dudley see those, you hide them in your cupboard, understand?”

The color drained out of Harry completely. White hair and pale gray eyes regarded Petunia. Harry clutched the book and said with all seriousness, “No one will ever see them.”

They were after all the only thing Harry had ever been given. As far as first presents went, it was a windfall and Harry hoped she didn’t take them back.

“Good, now take them to your cupboard and let me sort this mess. I’ll call you for lunch and then you can get the chores done,” she flicked through a few books in the pile closest to her.

Harry was gone before she even finished speaking, this was officially the best day ever. The trunk had treasure after all!

-0-

The little freak was smart, much as it irked her to admit. If she was being honest Harry was much smarter than her own son. Perhaps it was only fair, given everything else that was insurmountably stacked against the--child. 

Petunia had been teaching Harry to read and write for a little over a month, and it was going well. Of course in the child’s excitement, Harry had levitated everything in the living room. She was close to having a mental break down when it occurred to her, this was her chance to plant the seed.

“Do you know why you can’t go outside?” 

At her question, Harry slumped, hair fading to a sickly light green that matched his skin, “Cause I’ma Freak?”

“Well yes, but that’s not why. There’s an entire world of people with magic out there,” she offered waiting for the child to take the bait.

Harry’s eyes shifted to vibrant green, “People, like me?”

Petunia pursed her lips, “None of them look as you do, however, the fact remains, there is a magical world hidden out there.”

She watched as the child’s image shifted through a chaotic cycle as though unable to stop. 

“Can I go there?” Harry asked in a small voice, hair and eyes bleed into black.

“No, several of your kind are evil and one of the bad men trapped you here,” she offered and absently handed the child a cookie.

Harry stared at the cookie in shock before taking a nibble, then smiled widely up at her. Oh yes, Albus, even muggles can hurt wizards Petunia thought with a smirk. By the time the little freak got that letter of theirs, Harry would be well on his way to hating Albus, just as much as she did.

“Evil is like--er--real, real bad, right?” Harry asked with shining violet eyes.

Petunia smiled down at her nephew with an evil glint in her eye, “Yes, that’s right, Harry. Such a smart little thing aren’t you?”

Harry beamed at her praise.

-0-

“No, absolutely not! I’ll not have it!” Vernon’s chin wobbled as his face turned an unhealthy puce.

Really, she thought, he was going to have to take better care of himself, or he was going to die. Petunia shook the negative thoughts straight from her mind, that wasn’t why she married him after all. He’d been and still was, easy to control.

“It will,” she informed her husband with a certain resolved pride. 

Keeping eye contact she slides the brisket, sitting prettily on its platter, onto the table in front of him. Vernon eyed her offering, his shoulders loosening, oh yes, her husband was malleable by way of bottomless stomach.

“But we swore we’d stomp that unnaturalness out of him,” Vernon sighed watching her hand hover above his plate, ready to serve him a portion.

Petunia clucked her tongue, “Would that we could but that child isn’t normal even for one of them. Do you really think Harry could ever be--normal?”

Eyes downcast, Vernon huffed and cut into his dinner, “No.”

“No, and why do you think one of them would place Harry here knowing that?” She asked and primly took her seat next to Vernon.

Noisily chewing his food, Vernon gave a small moan, “Good dinner Pet,” after another three bites he shook his head, “I can’t think of a good reason, you said those freaks have their own world. It doesn’t make sense, but then none of them do, do they?”

The corner of her mouth turned up as she smirked, “The letter said that Harry was famous in their world, and Albus thought it best the child was raised normally outside of that fame.”

Vernon scoffed, a small bit of meat escaped his giant maw, “But we’ve already established that Harry can’t live like a normal person.”

Petunia nodded encouraging that line of thought further, “No, but that old man is in charge of all the freaks. I saw all of his titles once. He’s akin to the Prime Minister, the head of education and some sort of grand wizard bigwig--all rolled into one,” she finished in a hiss.

Vernon scowled, his eyes narrowed into slits, “All that and he couldn’t even ring the bell, just left a baby on a doorstep. In the middle of a cold autumn night!”

She rubbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “And didn’t even bother to give us my nephew’s birth certificate or a stipend. Knowing we couldn’t get those things without his help.”

“Wasting our money on that--”

“Vernon,” she chided.

“Sorry Pet,” Vernon calmed down accepting another serving of his favorite meal.

“Imagine, if you can. A child so powerful that it defeats a great evil, while still in nappies,” she murmured running a finger around the top edge of her glass, “That child might grow to be too powerful to control. What better way to control it, than to place it in a home where it can never live. Never laugh and play outside, or have friends. What would the child do when it was rescued?” 

Vernon’s eyes widened comically, “That old man is evil,” he rubbed his meaty hands over his face, “Fine. Do what you want, but try to keep it away from me.”

-0-

By her nephew’s sixth birthday Harry could read and write at a level comparable to a child of twelve. Anything she told Harry was absorbed as though the child was a sponge. It was gratifying to Petunia twofold, one in that her time wasn’t wasted and two--Harry now hated Albus as much as she did.

With a smile she knocked on the cupboard door, “Harry dear, it’s time to get up.”

Vernon had taken some more convincing but he’d eventually come around to her way of thinking. There was obviously no way to beat the freak out of a child that was like a living embodiment of magic itself. Those freaks were biding their time! They wanted her freakish nephew here for a reason. Petunia wanted to make sure they paid for that. Ruin her life, would they? And then swoop in and take Harry away to be their little magical savior? No.

Harry stumbled out of the cupboard and smiled at her, “Good morning Aunt Petunia.”

“Good morning Harry and happy birthday!” She cheered and pointed to the pile of presents on the table.

Harry’s breath caught in a shocked gasp, “For me?”

“Well they’re certainly not for Vernon,” she retorted.

Vernon, who had yet to leave for work, snorted into his cup nearly choking, “Quite right.”

Harry approached the table with weary anticipation. She had mostly repaired the damage done from their first few years together, but the child was still unsure. 

“Go on,” she shooed Harry toward the four packages.

Harry sat down at the table and carefully unwrapped the first box, lifting the lid a smile spread across the child’s face. Petunia internally crowed as her nephew pulled out the dresses and little girl accessories.

“Those are for the when you’re a girl, Harry,” She offered the child with an insidious smile.

Vernon was clenching his cup so hard that it cracked. Petunia glared at her husband’s purpling face, “Vernon,” she hissed.

He shook his head and slowly calmed himself, “Sorry Pet.”

In the second box, Harry found a new set of little boy clothes. The child seemed just as pleased with those, and why wouldn’t it? Harry was both a boy and a girl. 

The third present was a large rectangular mirror, “We’ll put that on the other side of your cupboard door, that way you can practice-changing,” she offered.

“Wow,” Harry murmured, “Thanks!”

“There’s still one more dear,” Petunia said keeping an eye on Vernon. This wouldn’t please him one jot but it was necessary.

In the final package was her sister’s old school books. When Vernon saw them he started huffing.

“Vernon dear, what did we discuss?” She asked in an overly sweet voice.

“Right,” he grumbled while glaring at the books, “Well that’s me off then.”

Petunia watched her husband hustle out of the house, “Have a good day at work dear.”

Vernon grunted as he nearly slammed the front door. 

-0-

“It’s too hard,” Harry whined pouting at the little rubber ball on the living room floor.

Petunia’s hands rested on her hips and she sneered, “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve been doing this since you were an infant. You aren’t a baby are you?”

Harry’s hair darkened as green eyes bled into a deep red, “I’m not a baby!”

She nodded, “Then make the ball float,” she ordered. 

“The book said there’s a wand I’m spos’t to use and some big words,” Harry complained, hand extended forward.

Albus certainly used one, as did the other freaks, Petunia thought uncharitably. 

“Albus wanted you here, trapped with normal people. Unable to leave the house. Ignorant of your own kind. Unable to use the gifts you were born with. Weak. He wanted you to be useless,” she hissed and crouched down before her nephew.

Clasping Harry’s jaw she stared intently into the child’s eyes, “Those books only tell you what is possible. Do you need a wand to change the way you look?” She prodded.

Harry’s head shook, eyes downcast. “No.”

“Are you a little weakling?” She asked and squeezed lifting Harry’s face up.

Those red eyes glowed in anger, “No!”

She gave a firm nod and stood taking a step back, “Float the ball.”

With a little growl, Harry lifted the ball into the air.

“Good. Now, pretend you’re holding a flashlight,” she instructed.

Before she’d given Harry, Lily’s old books, she’d read through the lot of them. In her opinion most of it was tosh. Wasn’t magic supposed to be--magical? It irked her that those freaks had rules for something that should be amazing. They made it so easy to hate them. 

“No, like this,” Petunia held out her arm to the correct position, “Now listen, a weak witch or wizard needs a wand to do anything, but you--you already know that’s not true--not for you,” she added.

“We want to make a light. Imagine making the flashlight light up,” Petunia held her hand out and showed Harry again.

She sighed when no light appeared for her nephew, “Say the idiotic word if you must and remember, you have to mean it,” she quirked a brow, “Lumos.”

“Lewmose,” Harry murmured staring forlornly at where the light should be.

“No. It’s Lumos, try again,” she said firmly.

“Lumos!” Harry growled, hand-squeezed into a fist.

A bright ball of light the size of a marble, hovered in the air above her nephew’s clenched hand, “Good job Harry!”

Harry’s hair lightened and those unnerving red eyes changed to green, as a smile spread across the child’s face.

“For a reward, We’ll have ice cream for lunch,” she took the smiling child’s hand and led Harry into the kitchen.

-0-

“Happy seventh birthday Harry!” 

Harry wiped the sleep away, eyes blinking again in disbelief. Aunt Petunia had balloons attached to the chairs and streamers hanging over the doorway to the kitchen. Smiling, Harry walked over to join her at the table.

“Good morning Aunt Petunia,” Harry chirped giving the cake and wrapped presents on top of the table a longing glance.

Petunia smiled and patted the back of the chair, “Have a seat dear.”

She lit the candles on the cake, “Make a wish and blow them out,” she said, motioning with her hand.

“I wish--”

“No! Don’t say it out loud Harry, or it won’t come true,” she chuckled.

I wish I could go outside, Harry thought and blew out the candles. Looking up at Aunt Petunia expectantly, Harry inched closer to the cake.

“There, birthday cake for a birthday breakfast,” she placed a slice of the chocolate cake in front of Harry and then headed into the kitchen.

Harry hummed around the fork at the first taste of the icing covered goodness. Normally, she only served sweets when Harry had done something hard. The two packages on the table were wrapped in bright purple foil paper, with silver ribbons and bows. Nothing could top last year, but curiosity was starting to really set in. 

“Go ahead.”

Harry jerked and glanced up at Aunt Petunia, not having heard her come back into the room. She nodded again. Slowly, Harry drug the first package over and picked at the seam of the wrapping paper, it was almost too pretty to rip off. Almost. Inside the package was a photo album. Cracking it open, Harry peaked at the first page of pictures and gasped.

“Is this you and mum?” Harry asked, turning the book to face Petunia and pointing to the picture.

“Yes, those are all the photos I have of when she was little. I thought you might like them,” Her tone was kind but she didn’t smile.

Harry frowned knowing what Aunt Petunia thought of Lily, but was still glad to have received such a gift, “Thank you, Aunt Petunia.”

Setting the precious gift aside, Harry carefully opened the last present. It was a small box. Opening the lid, Harry peaked inside and saw a glint of silver. “A key?”

“Come,” Petunia ordered then looked over her shoulder as she started up the stairs, “Bring the key.”

Obediently Harry followed her up the stairs until the two were standing in front of Dudley’s second bedroom. The doorknob had been changed, this one had a keyhole. Petunia put the key in the lock and turned it, swinging the door open. Following her into the room, Harry saw everything was different. There was a brand new bed, with blankets and pillows all in different shades of blue. 

Fresh curtains had been hung and all of Dudley’s old junk had been removed. The old trunk from the attic was pushed up at the end of the bed, and there was a set of shelves next to the window. It was surprising to find the room so clean. The last time Harry had seen it, broken toys had been stacked almost to the ceiling.

“This is your room now,” Petunia said.

Looking down at the key in shock, Harry’s eyes welled with tears, “Mine?”

Petunia gave a shrewd look and informed Harry, “This key works on both sides, you are to keep this door locked when there’s company! I don’t want anyone in here but you.”

Harry nodded absently already thinking of dragging all the books from the cupboard up here, to put on the nice new bookshelf.

“Well, get to it. I want that cupboard cleaned out and everything up here before lunchtime.”

Harry watched her walk away. As soon as she made it to the stairs, Harry was a flurry of activity. Grabbing armloads from the cupboard and running back up the stairs with great big puffing breaths until it was all finally done. 

-0-

Her nephew sat on the floor in front of the large mirror she’d bought. It had been difficult to buy the thing and tote it home all by herself while Vernon had been at work, but needs must. Calmer heads had prevailed in the household, but he still complained when she spent money on Harry.

“Albus Dumbledore doesn’t want you to be able to leave the house and I can’t do anything about that,” she sneered at the reflection.

“He wants you dependent on him and his ilk,” she quirked a brow at Harry’s darkening features.

“To control you,” she added as Harry’s eyes bled into red. 

Smirking down at the angry little face in the mirror she carried on, “He got your parents killed and then he stole your freedom.”

Tears welled and spilled over from those shining blood-red eyes. Coal black half hid them, as Harry leaned forward shifting the curtain of hair.

“I thought a bad man killed them,” Harry asked, eyes firmly on the floor.

She nodded and blew out a breath. It was true, but not the whole truth. That awful man had used her sister and others, to fight for him in a war.

“The magicals were at war,” Petunia paused trying to think of how to explain it in a way that the child could understand.

“What was the war about?” Harry asked as little fingers traced patterns into the floorboards.

She hummed and walked over the window looking out over the lawn, “I’m not completely sure Harry. Lily said that the Dark Lord Voldemort,” she glanced over her shoulder, “That’s the man that went after your parents and you.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, “He didn’t want the magicals to hide anymore. Wanted to prove that wizards were better than us normal folk. Killed us even, sometimes just for fun--or so Lily said.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in thought, “He killed regular people for fun?”

“I believe he might have, I’m not sure. Anyway, Albus is in charge of the magical government. He helps make the law and uphold it, understand?” She asked crouching down close to Harry.

“Like how people go to jail if they steal?” Harry asked meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Yes. For them though, for people who can do anything, make anything happen, there is stricter control. And Albus, he has that control. It isn’t just you who’s freedom has been taken away,” She stood and stepped away again, checking the driveway for Vernon’s car.

“Albus used children from his school and those that had only recently graduated, young people, like my sister, to fight in a war. He sent un-qualified young people to their deaths, never even caring to tell their families what actually happened to them. Using them as fodder,” she finished at a whisper, thinking back to all the horrible things Lily had said.

Of all the members of Albus’ order that had been murdered. Only for that bastard to tell her sister that there was some wibbly-wobbly prophecy. And wasn’t that something else that really stuck in her crawl. Months. Lily had been murdered months after that man had told her of the prophecy. Lo and behold, her nephew ends the war--their savior. Never mind that everyone else died to make that happen. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked dragging her out of such dark thoughts.

“Yes dear, I just hate Albus so much,” she shuttered.

“Me too,” Harry offered.

She nodded, “I want you to be able to go outside, but to do that you need better control.”

Harry looked at her with awe, hope blazing through bright green eyes.

“You will choose how you look, pick a face, body, hair, eyes--think of every detail. In the morning you will be that person. You will be that person all day long. Each day you will do this. If after seven days, you can hold onto one form for an entire day, we will go outside to the park.”

Harry’s hands trembled as little panicked breaths wracked the child‘s body, “R-really?”

She gave a firm nod, “I don’t care if you leave this house as a boy or a girl, but you will be dressed accordingly. Mind, normal people don’t have weird colored hair. You’ll have to stick with blond, brown, red or black, we don’t want any attention. Same with your eyes, no red! Keep them green, blue or brown.”

Vernon’s car pulled into the driveway and Petunia rushed from the room locking the door behind her.

-0-

Petunia was proud of Harry. For the first time actually feeling for the child--the boy, piercing at her chest with an intensity. She watched with a horrible weighted feeling gathering in her as Harry played in the park. He’d come out of the room looking like a miniature James Potter, still did in fact. Wild uncontrollable black hair around his head like a halo, as he swung on the swing set.

Her mind wandered back to that day so long ago, the last time she’d gone to play with her sister. Of that nasty little boy that stole her sister away. Part of her was curious as to what had happened to Snape. He was probably just as creepy and greasy as ever, she thought with a huff.

“Don’t swing any higher Harry, or you’ll fall!” She called out to the little boy who looked like he’d won the world.

He had in a way. 

-0-

The little red headed girl ran toward the counter clutching an armful of books nearly bigger than her. 

“What did I say about running in the library, Harry?”

Contrite green eyes looked up at her through a fringe of fiery red, “Sorry Aunt Petunia,” the girl offered, twisting a foot behind her.

Petunia gave Harry a nod, “Did you find everything you’ll need for your assignment?”

A flurry of nods and a giggle was the child’s only response. Rolling her eyes she led Harry up to the counter where the librarian Mrs. Garris was waiting.

“Well hello, Mrs. Dursley, who’s this?” The woman asked smiling down at Harry.

“This is my niece Harry,” Petunia offered while placing the stack of books on the counter.

A look of confusion crossed the librarian’s face, “I thought your nephew's name was Harry?”

“It is,” she waved a finger in a circle near her head, “Harold and Harriet, both Harry for short, My sister was a bit of a loon.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry stiffen. A single strand of hair began to fade to blonde. Reaching into her pocket she discretely pulled out the photo of Lily at age seven and handed it to the girl.

Harry clasped the photo so tightly her little fingers were white, studying the picture as she regained control. A trick they’d learned over these past weeks of exploration and adventure.

“Well that could get a bit confusing, but it’s darling otherwise,” the librarian smiled and handed them their bag, “due in two weeks dear, call us if you need an extension.”

“Bye!” Harry called over her shoulder as she walked quickly from the building.

Petunia caught up with her by the car, “Are you tired?”

Harry nodded, “I’m sorry. It was loads of fun, but can we go home now?”

-0-

Petunia knocked on Harry’s bedroom door, “Time to get up Harry, we have a lot to do before Vernon gets home!”

A thump answered her as the child stumbled out of bed and crept over to the door. Harry opened the door and stared slack-jawed. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” Harry asked.

Petunia ran her hands down the front of the loose-fitting wrap dress she’d thrown on over A matching pants set.

“Unfortunately, I’m wearing what I need to so that we blend in.”

Harry nodded at her with a look that spoke volumes about the opinion on Petunia’s outfit. 

“Think I look funny do you?” She smirked down at Harry, “You’ll have to dress the same way.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in dismay, “Why?”

“Because magicals have bad fashion sense,” Petunia offered over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs.

“Come eat your birthday breakfast, we need to leave within the hour!”

Harry raced down the stairs, skidding across the kitchen floor as his socks lost purchase.

Petunia sighed, “Sit.”

Harry climbed up onto the stool at the kitchen island and grinned at the cupcake. It was chocolate with pink frosting and a large number eight candles. 

“Did you finish your essay on the study of prophecy?”

Harry glanced up at her, the bottom half of his face covered in pink icing, “Mmhmm.”

Petunia quirked a brow.

“Yes. I even proofread and rewrote it with that stupid pen,” he mumbled.

She grimaced, “It isn’t my fault the magicals still use quills, be glad I managed to find a fountain pen for you to practice with.”

After some minor cajoling Harry finally got ready to leave. For reasons that she’d yet to explain, she had her nephew wearing the James face. 

The drive to London was nerve wracking. She only had the vaguest of memories as to their destination, It had been a lifetime since she’d been. Finding a place to park in Charring Cross, the two walked the rest of the way. It was nice out and their outfits didn’t stick out too badly. 

“Where are we going?” Harry asked for the third time in as many minutes.

“It’s a surprise, not too much further,” she offered and grabbed the boys hand.

“Hold on to my hand, I have trouble seeing the place. Whatever you do, don’t let go and run off! While we’re there your name is James. If you start to shift make sure you look at your photo.” She instructed again, they’d been over this the whole way, but it was so very important.

From a block away she could see the silly cauldron sign. She could feel the sneer that made its way across her face. The Leaky Cauldron was dark, dingy and disgusting. An ancient barman glanced up at the two as they crossed the threshold.

“Can you let us into the alley?” Petunia asked with no small amount of bitterness.

“Sure thing,” the old man smiled and lead them through to the back. 

Harry stood in front of the brick wall, watching as the old man tapped a pattern onto it with his wand. Harry’s eyes widened to a comical degree as the wall split and opened into the magical alley. Petunia smacked his arm and motioned to his eyes. 

Pulling the photo out of his pocket, Harry memorized his father’s face. He closed his eyes and concentrated on staying in shape, as Petunia pulled him along. The place wasn’t too crowded and luckily they didn’t draw any undue attention.

The large white marble building loomed ahead on the corner. It had been eating at Petunia for years that Harry had never received anything from Albus. She knew for a fact that the Potter’s had been rich, it was one of the reasons she hated James. What if Albus was using Harry’s money? Harry was supposed to be famous but never got any mail. There were many things that she would have answers for today.

Not giving the sign at the bank any notice, she lead Harry up the stairs and into the lobby, then found the teller with the shortest queue. When it was their turn, she leaned in close to the goblin and handed him a single sheet of paper folded over for privacy. The goblin read the note and scoffed, pursed his lips and hopped off the stool.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to Grimshot,” the small being marched quickly through the bank lobby into a hall, deeper into the building than she was really comfortable with. With a knock, they bid to enter.

“This is Grimshot, if the boy is, who you say he is, then he can help you. If you’re lying well…”

Petunia swallowed nervously at the thinly veiled threat. 

Grimshot gave her a wry sort of smile, “Account Name.”

“Harry Potter,” She said firmly in her resolve.

Grimshot laughed, “There have been many Harry Potter’s come through here, claiming to be the Potter heir. I assume you have the key?”

Sweat began to gather at the base of her neck. “No.”

At the goblins less than pleasant facial expression she stammered, “My nephew was left on my doorstep the night his parents were murdered. We need answers and he needs access to his account. After everything the man has done to my family, I just need to know that Albus Dumbledore hasn’t touched my nephew's account.”

As her rant had continued the goblin’s eyebrows continued to climb. “I see.”

Opening a drawer he drug out a sheet of heavy vellum and a black quill, “Without a key, we need proof of identity. Child,” he reached across the desk and handed the quill to Harry then slide the vellum over.

“The first test is to write your name in full on this sheet of paper. It’s a blood contract and will not accept a lie,” he tapped the sheet showing Harry where to put his name.

Harry’s hand shook as he jerked the quill over the vellum, scratching out Harry James Potter. Placing the quill onto the sheet, he pushed both back over to the goblin. 

Grimshot hummed, “Well, now we know that your name is Harry James Potter, but are you the Potter heir? We shall see.”

Rummaging around Grimshot pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment. Flattening it out a bit, he patted it down in front of Harry and handed him a small knife. 

Harry took the knife looking at it wearily, his eyes meeting the goblins once more as Grimshot instructed, “A small cut on your thumb will suffice, squeeze a few drops onto the scroll.”

Harry winced as the knife slide right into his thumb. Holding his hand over the scroll, blood dripped onto it. The blood began to stretch out on the scroll, twisting and taking form, turning into names.

Harry James Potter b. July 31st, 1980

Father - James f. Potter d. October 31st, 1981

Mother - Lily Evans Potter d. October 31st, 1981

Grimshot read the sheet and nodded ascent, “Seems you are who you say you are,” reaching behind him, he opened a file cabinet and said, “Potter.”

A file shot up from the depths of the cabinet. He placed the folder in front of him and read through it, “There’s been no activity in the family vault or Harry’s trust vault since September of 1981. Would you like me to recall any keys and issue a new one?”

Petunia let out a breath of relief, “Yes please, I was also wondering if you could tell me how one carries around wizarding currency? Is there a magical wallet, or?”

Grimshot looked at her in interest, “For a fee of one galleon, the bank offers a small bottomless bag.”

The new key was issued and handed over to Harry, along with a small brown leather bag on a long leather cord. Harry slipped the cord over his neck and patted it down under his jumper. 

“If you’d like I can have someone take the two of you down to Mr. Potters trust vault?”

Petunia smiled, “Yes, could you tell me how much a book is on average?”

Grimshot quirked a brow, “It varies by a large degree, from a few sickles to well over twenty galleons would be the closest I could guess, as some are worth a great deal more than others. Flourish and Blotts is typically where most shop for books in the alley. It is coincidentally, right next door.”

The goblin shoved the folder back into the cabinet and lead the two back out into the bank lobby. After yelling for another goblin to take them down to the vault, Petunia was lead to a rail cart. 

“Of course,” she hissed through her teeth as the cart took off quickly speeding along the rails, descending lower and lower.

“Are you alright Aunt Petunia?” Harry asked her with concern in his voice.

“Fine Harry, I just wish the bank was more like what I’m used to is all.”

Harry nodded but she could tell by the joy in his eyes that he didn’t share her opinion. By the time they finally reached his vault, the child’s cheeks were pinked and his hair mussed. The cheeky little bastard even had the audacity to ask if the cart went faster.

Once inside she helped him to put several hundred galleons into the bag. The goblin waiting by the door snickered at their attempts.

“Is there an easier way to gather them then?” She snipped.

“Why yes, you could just summon them,” the goblin gave her a smile that was all teeth.

“If I weren’t a muggle, that would be a grand idea!” She scowled and stomped past the goblin, climbing back into the cart.

The rude little being wasn’t contrite in the least, merely shrugging and hopping back in the driver's seat. 

-0-

“We’ll need an owl and some kind of bag or trunk to put everything in,” she mumbled to herself as she lead them through the people milling about the alley with a single-minded focus.

Ahead Petunia saw a sign for Trunkler’s Trunks and nearly beat her head against the wall. Dear Lord, she wondered whether or not that was the owner's real name. Pulling Harry in behind her the door gave a jangle as it closed.

“Excuse me, is there some sort of library trunk or,” Petunia trailed off as the man behind the counter sneered down his nose at her.

“Another Mudblood,” He muttered and chuckled darkly.

Harry tugged on her sleeve, “What’s a Mudblood?”

“It’s a dirty word to describe someone like your mother,” she offered succinctly and without emotion.

The idea of a stranger insulting his mother, burned Harry with anger, making his eyes bleed into red as his hair grew steadily longer and darker until it was the blackest of blacks. His eyes caught on a silver serpent decoration as they surveyed both it and the man, glaring hotly. 

“You shouldn’t talk about people like that, it’s rude!” Harry hissed.

Petunia showed no reaction to her nephew’s hissing fit, resolved to ask the child about it later on at home. For now, she was just grateful that the man had been unnerved by Harry, terrified even by the looks of it.

“A library trunk, or something similar with which to store a large number of books, in a much smaller space. Do you, or do you not, carry such an item?” She asked with vitriol.

“Y-yes. The deluxe library trunk can h-hold up to one thousand books. I’ll give you a discount for the misunderstanding,” he stuttered and wandered into the back of the establishment dragging a medium-sized trunk behind him.

Hefting it onto the counter, he eyed Harry with a mixture of awe and fear, “Press your wand on the lock and say shrink,” the trunk shrunk down to the size of a matchbox, “The reverse will return it to normal size, unshrink,” he said and the trunk grew back to size.

“Acceptable, James if you would?” She asked prodding Harry.

Harry raised his hand and floated the trunk down to the floor in front of him. Placing his hand on the lock he hissed, “Shrink.”

The matchbox-sized trunk was quickly stowed away in a pants pocket all while the clerk was goggling at Harry.

“Well?” 

The man jerked his eyes away from Harry and gave Petunia a questioning look.

“How much is the trunk?” She sneered.

“How about ten, less than half than normal for the troubles, eh? Just remember ol’ Trunkler stayed true,” he said with an intense focus that made Harry squirm.

Harry counted out the galleons and dropped them into the other man’s hands. Just outside the door, Petunia pulled him aside and whispered, “Look at your photo.”

She kissed him on the forehead and ran a hand down the side of his head. The act made Harry falter as this had never happened before. 

“Fear can be a powerful motivator James, remember today,” she double-checked his appearance and led them on to get an owl and books to fill their trunk.

-0-

They paused briefly in front of the pet shop as Petunia collected herself. A boa constrictor was twined around a large tree branch in the window. Harry tapped on the glass to get the snakes attention. It turned its head to him, small forked tongue tasting the air.

“Go away human, you’re in my sun.” it hissed.

Harry gasped, “You can talk?”

“What are you doing James?” Petunia asked while nervously looking around, they had caught the attention of a man walking by that she didn’t like the looks of.

“The snake can talk!” He hissed frowning at the look on her face.

“Why are you hissing?” She demanded and had a quick look over her shoulder.

Harry shook his head and shrugged, “I didn’t, I said the snake can talk. It told me to get out of its sun.”

She gave him an incredulous look, “You can understand the snake?” She asked in a whisper leaning down so the blond man behind them wouldn’t hear her.

Harry nodded. Petunia hummed, something niggled in the back of her mind. No matter, she thought, this was an issue to deal with later on at home, “We’ll talk about it later on.”

“Can we get a snake?” He asked.

Petunia sighed and snuck a look around her, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw the blond man was now standing right next to her, in front of the shop. “Can I help you?”

Turning slightly she got a good look at the man's steely silver eyes. With a haughty glare, he sneered, “Pardon?”

Petunia quirked a brow and huffed, jutting her chin out and grabbing Harry’s sleeve, practically dragging him into the pet shop.

“Something small and non poisonous, ask the clerk to help you find one and buy everything you’ll need to feed and care for it,” she instructed taking up a stalwart watch near the door, not trusting the man outside the window as far as she could throw him.

Harry wandered over to the clerk and talked to the younger woman for a few minutes. They walked toward the back of the shop and not long after he came skipping back over, showing her a small box with a tiny green snake inside of it. 

“Ready?” 

The two made quick work of buying an owl, a small little white thing that had seemed to immediately take to Harry. 

“Why don’t we let her fly home and see if we can shrink this cage?” She asked.

Harry opened the cage and whispered something to the owl. He set it down on the ground and opened the door, letting the owl out. She leaped into the air and flew away. Petunia dearly hoped that meant the owl would be waiting for them when they returned otherwise they’d need to come back. That was something she wasn’t really interested in doing. 

She watched as her nephew put his hand on top of the cage and hissed something. Her face began to heat from embarrassment and nerves, this trip couldn’t end soon enough. They were really going to have to work on this hissing thing, Harry just couldn’t walk around all willy nilly hissing at everything.

The cage shrunk just as the trunk had and Harry pocketed it. Petunia felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and just knew that man was still lingering about, watching them. 

“Let's go, we’re running out of time before we need to get home,” she lead them over to the bookshop as quickly as possible.

Once inside she felt a tad safer, though not by much. The older man behind the counter was much nicer than the one from the trunk shop and seemed happy to answer her many questions. Yes, indeed there was a mail-order catalog, the man had beamed at her for asking. 

Grabbing a bottomless feather light shopping basket--and wasn’t that a delight, she drug Harry around from isle to isle. The two grabbed several different books on recent history and law. Primers for muggle-born. Introductions to several subjects that had caught Harry’s eye, like runes and a book about languages. She eyed that last one as well, wondering if it covered the hissing thing he’d been doing. That seemed important. 

Once their new purchases were in the trunk, the two fled the store like the hounds of hell were on their heels. As far as Petunia was concerned they might well be. She’d seen another flash of platinum blond hair out of the corner of her sight as they left Flourish and Blotts. What could that man possibly want, she wondered with no small amount of fear?

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked nearly jogging to keep up with her.

“Someone is following us,” she muttered.

They came to the brick wall and Petunia had a horrifying realization, she wouldn’t be able to open the door. Glancing down at Harry she asked near frantically, “Do you remember what that man did to open it?”

Harry focused on the bricks then stepped forward and tapped the pattern with his finger. Miraculously, the bricks pulled open for the two and they made their escape posthaste. The brisk walk back to the car thankfully only took a minute or so. Once they were inside the car, she let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t safe per se but much closer to it.

Petunia started the car and pulled out onto the street. They’d traveled no more than fifty feet before she saw the man standing plain as day on the sidewalk, staring straight at her through the windows. She pressed down on the gas and drove home well above the legal speed limit.

The tension bled from her body as the car pulled into the garage. Strange she thought, that it would be a physical feeling of safety. 

“If you ever see that man while you’re out and I’m not around, hide and change your face so he can’t follow you,” Petunia rubbed her hands over her face with a tired sigh, “I’m never going back there Harry, so make the most of that mail order catalog.”

Truthfully the boy looked content, she supposed it had been a grand adventure for a child. Two pets and books about magic, that’s probably all he’d remember of the day, she thought with a chuckle.

-0-

After their trip into the alley, Petunia absorbed the books they’d bought with a near-obsessive single-mindedness. She found that Dudley and Vernon both were mostly content to eat themselves into a stupor most nights, giving her several hours a day to devote to the task. She worried about Dudley’s health but Vernon kept saying tosh like, he’s a growing lad. He needs his food. She’d yet to find a solution that her husband would support.

Every two days she would assign Harry an essay on critical thinking. It gave him much needed practice writing with the fountain pen and give him a new topic to research. On the odd days, they went over lists of spells from the standard book series. Already Harry was well into the third year for understanding and ability to cast.

They discussed magical law and government after Petunia had trudged through the muck and mire, making note of loopholes that he might be able to use to his advantage. One, in particular, had caught her eye, the end of the line clause. She’d even considered owling the Ministry for the paperwork involved after she’d read that all muggle-borns and orphans were issued, magical guardians. Harry shared her concern about the topic, especially when she pointed out that as far as she knew, he would be attending Albus’ school. That Albus would probably be Harry’s magical guardian by default if nothing else. 

They had time to decide though, Harry couldn’t file for emancipation until his eleventh birthday. 

“If I recall the incantation is Flipendo,” Petunia said with a frown.

Harry held his hand out facing the book they’d stood on the table, “Flipendo!”

The book knocked back and tumbled end over end to the floor with a loud thump, “Might be useful, if you catch the person off guard,” Petunia offered.

“Were you able to get any further with your transfiguration?” She asked knowing that the task she’d set him was difficult.

Harry nodded and levitated their rubber practice ball into the air in front of him. Squinting his eyes and grunting as the ball twisted and morphed into the shape of a star, then a triangle and finally a square.

“Good, that’s good,” she praised though noticed the task seemed to have taken quite a bit out of him.

He was slightly flushed and sweaty, “How about a quick snack and then a nap?”

Harry sighed in relief and shook his head.

-0- Time Skip -0-

“We won’t be able to do anything for your eleventh birthday this year Harry,” Petunia said apologetically.

Harry sat the book that he’d been reading down on the table, “What’s going on that day?”

“Vernon planned and paid for a family vacation. A three week stay in Majorca to be specific,” she turned away from him as she said this trying to find something to do.

Harry watched Aunt Petunia flit about the kitchen, wiping down the already clean counters and the like. He imagined that meant he wasn’t going with them. She probably didn’t realize that he remembered just about everything that happened in this house. There were days when he would think about the horrible things she used to screech at him and the chores he’d been given. Things were loads better now, but even still, he didn’t really feel like a part of the family.

Some moments, however fleeting, he imagined she might even love him, though he’d stopped wishing for it long ago. It was enough that he was treated like a human now--an invisible human that’d been hidden away as some kind of terrible secret--but human. 

“Will I be staying here alone?” He asked more curious than worried.

He noticed the dark rings under her eyes and the tiredness of her face. She sighed and leaned her body against the counter, “I’m sure that’s not a good idea. But, I don’t know who to ask, or,” she trailed off with a frown, waving her hand about.

“It’ll be alright, I’m a lot more mature than most children my age,” he offered in total sincerity, it was true after all.

From a young age, he’d been conditioned to care for himself. Harry knew how to cook, buy groceries and could even entertain himself with minimal effort. Mostly due to his growing book collection and Sandor, his snake.

The snake didn’t offer the most intelligent conversation, but it was close enough to having a friend, most days. And if he really itched to get out of the house, he could always go around to the shops as different people. That never failed to amuse. He’d gotten very good at mimicking others. Even adults much taller than himself. If only he could keep the identities for several hours, he thought. Then he could just leave and never come back.

His mother’s old yearbooks spawned many of the faces he wore. There’d even been a few times he’d traipsed around as that blond man that had scared his aunt so badly in the alley. Lucius Malfoy, Harry now knew the man’s name from his mother’s oldest yearbook. 

In the end, she reluctantly agreed to leave him in the house alone. The worry seemed genuine which served to surprise him. 

“There’s a list of possible essay topics and books that can be referenced for information. Try and finish up with the standard book of spells year six. I know that you’re mostly done with it already so it shouldn’t be too difficult,” She paced back out of the room to work on packing again.

Only a few minutes passed before she was back in his room, “Make sure if you leave the house, you take all your things with you. Just shrink them down and throw them into the little bag of yours just in case!”

A half-hour later it was, “Here’s some regular money for groceries and anything you might need. It should be around five hundred pounds, try and make that last. It should do, we’ll only be gone three weeks. I went to the grocers evening last and bought enough to feed three Vernon’s you should--”

Harry grabbed her arm as she paced by, “Breath, it will be fine.”

Petunia halted and swung her head around like a woman possessed, continuing on with another rant, “We will be back four days after your birthday. If something happens, I put that crazy Figg woman’s address and phone number down in the small purple book, by the phone in the living room, ok? I know she’s one of Albus’ people, but she’d help you.”

Harry’s half-lidded eyes came into focus and narrowed dangerously, bleeding into a blood-red as they always did when he was truly angry, “I’m never going to go to one of Albus’ people. That old man can kiss my fu--”

Petunia smacked her hand over his mouth, and he gave in to the urge to lick it. She jerked her hand away and looked at him as though he had two heads. Dramatically wiping her hand onto her slacks over and over.

“Watch your language.”

Harry growled, “I hate that man so much it just burns me inside.”

Petunia nodded, “As do I, but that’s no reason for foul language. We hate with decorum Harry. Kill them with kindness, never let them know.”

“And then curse them in the back,” Harry shifted into a hag and started cackling, rubbing her hands together.

Petunia shuddered in revulsion, “Please, not that Yaga woman, anything else,” she turned away and walked briskly back towards her half-packed suitcases. 

 

Hearing her shoes clicking against the floor in his direction again, he flopped back onto his bed and groaned.

-0-

His Aunt had been gone for two weeks and three days when everything went to hell in a hand basket. Things had been going well too. Harry would wake up as late as he wanted, stroll downstairs and fix himself some breakfast, then leave the dishes in the sink for hours--just because. He read and did some of the school work Aunt Petunia assigned. Spend time watching the telly with Sandor, not that the snake cared. Then before he knew it, it was his birthday.

Hedwig started screeching and startled him out of bed. The shock of it had caused him to tangle up in the sheets and get twisted up, thus he fell out of bed and smacked his nose against the floor. Glaring up at his normally stoic owl friend, he saw her attention was on another owl. The large brown, horned owl, was sitting on the window ledge, just staring at her.

“Mrph,” he mumbled in pain rubbing his nose.

Finally getting to his feet he got a good enough look to see there was a letter tied to the other owl's leg. Lifting the window open, he reached over and untied the missive. Scowling he realized it was his Hogwarts letter. 

“I really only need the potions kit, you up for a trip Hedwig?” 

The feathers on Hedwig’s chest puffed in indignation. She hooted and then bit his finger. “Ow! Damn it!” he cursed sticking the abused finger into his mouth.

Shaking his hand out, he sat at the desk and wrote out an acceptance letter. After rolling it up and sealing it, he crept back to Hedwig slowly. “I need you to take this letter to professor McGonagall, at Hogwarts.”

Hedwig turned her head all the way around but did stick her leg out. He was almost relieved when the owl flew away. 

Hours later he kept looking back at the supplies list. Tapping his hand restlessly against his chest, he finally stood with a huff. He would go, “I’m going.”

Aunt Petunia was never going to go back there, this he knew for certain. She’d been paranoid for months after their first and only trip. He would shift into someone else, summon the knight bus from one street over, and just go.

It was really time to get some more galleons out of his vault anyway, and maybe get another trunk. Between the two of them, they’d already filled the first with books.

Walking back up to his room he pondered aloud, “Who to go as. Who, who, who.”

Shuffling along he pulled the old yearbooks from his shelf and dumped them on the bed. He sat there flipping through the pages, “No, no--no,” he sighed.

Three-fourths of the way through the first book, he came upon the Slug Club photo, “Yes,” he tapped his finger on the pretentious blond’s face. Laughing as the boy in the photo tried to squirm away and still look snobby.

Standing in front of the mirror, he shifted slowly, making small changes as he went. In the end, a young teenager stood in the reflection with white-blond hair and icy gray eyes. Harry practiced sneering and gave the mirror a nod of approval. Turning on his heels he swept over to the closet and picked out a nice pair of black slacks. Figuring he’d stay on theme, he grabbed a black button-down, black vest and a black open-front robe.

-0-

Bang

The door to the knight bus snapped open and the driver Stan, leaned out, “Where to gov--er,” the man’s eyes widened as he took in Harry’s appearance.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” he drawled and scrunched his nose as though he smelled something off.

Stan scowled but let him on. Harry didn’t really want to offend Stan, but he liked to stay in character once he was out and about as someone else. Everyone on the bus stopped talking and stared at him as he made his way to one of the open chairs. 

The uncomfortable silence lasted the entire trip, thankfully he was the only one to get off at the Leaky Cauldron. With his shoulders back and his head held high, he walked into the bar and ignored everyone. 

-0-

Harry never noticed the man in the pub wearing a turban. It wasn’t until the bricks were parting to open the entrance to the alley, that the other man came to his attention by grabbing his arm. Harry jerked to a halt and turned. Pursing his lips he quirked a brow and pulled his arm away.

“Can I help you with something?” Harry sneered up at the man.

“You’re Lucius’ spawn aren’t you?” The man grabbed his arm again roughly and jerked him about.

Harry tried to pull away but the man’s grip was firm, “Let go of me this instant!”

“I need to see your father! Take me to the manor. I can’t get through the wards as I am,” the other man hissed.

It was at this point that Harry realized the man's eyes were an angry blood red. Slightly panicked, Harry glanced around, but no one was nearby. Taking a chance, Harry went limp and slipped down out of the other’s grasp. As soon as he was free Harry turned and bolted through the doorway and into the alley. Knowing the other man was still close behind, he dodged into a side alley and shifted. Pushing magic into his clothes he quickly transfigured them.

“Watch where you’re going!” She yelled over her shoulder into the empty space, then stumbled back out into Diagon Alley.

The turbaned man ran right into her, as he made to follow Malfoy. The shoulder check nearly knocked her off her feet, “Jeez what is it with people today, twice in one morning!” Harry loudly complained and stalked away from the man.

The ruse appeared to have worked as the man in the turban did not come back out of the side alley. Keeping her cool, she pulled the school letter out of her pocket, mentally checking off all the stores she’d need to go into. 

Because she was looking at the letter, she missed the glittering black eyes that widened in alarm outside of the apothecary. Didn’t see the way the surly man with lank black hair, stumbled, or hear him when he gasped, “Lily!”

-0-

Harry handed her key over to the goblin, thankful that as a species, they didn’t seem to care what any witch or wizard did. Neither the teller or the cart driver had said mum about her appearance. She enjoyed the cart ride just as much as last time, though she didn’t remember there being a waterfall. 

Pouch full and ready to make purchases she walked with confidence back toward the lobby. The strange man in the turban was milling around in line at one of the tellers. Toward the door, she noticed a tall lanky man in all black, with long oily hair creeping about. By accident, she met his gaze and watched with building horror as he stumbled forward in a daze calling out to her.

“Lily!”

Ducking into a small group of people, she edged toward a hall to the right. Dipping in as quickly as possible, she shifted and changed her clothes back to how they had been before. What were the chances of her running into someone that knew her mother as a child?

Back in the lobby the man who had been calling out to Lily was still frantically searching for her. Meanwhile, Harry walked out of the bank and headed for the apothecary. At the base of the stairs on the outside of the building, a high pitched voice hissed, “Reguluss!”

Harry was of a mind to firmly ignore the address and just carry on. Having his arm grabbed again was just too much. Jerking around he found the man in the turban.

“Don’t touch me,” Harry jerked his arm away, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Those red eyes narrowed as the man studied his face, “Reguluss, your master has need of you.”

Harry frowned, “I don’t know any Regulus, you’ve got the wrong bloke.”

“You lie!” The man snarled.

Having had enough, Harry turned and ran for the second time in an hour. Flourish and Blotts was right next door. He slipped in and ran into the stacks shifting as he went. The clothes around him changed as she plopped down on the ground and pulled a book from the shelving pretending to read. Not a second too soon, as the man walked past her isle, but never gave her a second look. Next week, she promised herself. Next week she’d find some sort of photo collection that wasn’t from the wizarding world. 

Focusing on the text in her hand, she saw it was a book on how to learn new languages quickly, aided by potions and spells. Neat, she thought and left the isle to find a handbasket.

Humming to herself, Harry wandered toward the counter where the baskets were kept but was waylaid by a group of younger children. They were crowded around a tall thin display case. Narrowing her eyes she read, The Harry Potter adventure series. Her nostrils flared as she leaned around a small redhead and plucked the ‘new’ book from the case.

She was appalled that the filth was listed as non-fiction. She’d never seen a dragon in her life, let alone fought one, weren’t things like this libel? Perhaps, there might be a solicitor in the alley. Reading down the list of previous titles, she growled.

The redheaded girl in front of her turned around and snatched the book from Harry’s hands, clutching it to her little chest like a lifeline. 

“Give that back!” Harry growled.

The girl's freckled nose scrunched in annoyance, “No.”

“Give me the stupid book!” 

The other girl shook her head vigorously, “You were being mean, Harry Potter is a hero. One day I’m going to marry him, mummy said so.”

Harry choked and reached around the girl, snatching another copy. Turning on her heels she headed back to the counter, grabbed a basket and threw both books inside. As she went to pass the little girl again, Harry sneered, “Harry Potter wouldn’t marry you if you were the last girl on Earth!”

The little girl sniffled and ran off to parts unknown. Harry tried to feel guilty but couldn’t muster it. Going to marry Harry Potter, as if. mummy said so, echoed in her head over and over like some kind of bad song.

“What the heck did you say to my sister!?”

Harry turned to find a red headed boy about her age, standing at the end of her isle, “The truth,” she sneered.

“What truth is that?” He replied as his face grew steadily redder.

She narrowed her eyes, “That her mummy lied and that Harry Potter would never marry her,” she scoffed and turned away.

“You’re wrong, the headmaster came to see us, says we’ll be the best of friends. You’ll see, I’m gonna be best friends with the-boy-who-lived and when we’re older Ginny’ll marry him.”

Harry lost her mind, everything blanked white for a second as reason left and rage swept in. Flickering, her body shifted and morphed, settling on its base form. The red headed boy goggled at Harry. 

“What!?” The kid yelped and stumbled backward.

Harry’s lanky androgynous form slinked toward him, eyes blazing a killing curse green. Wild black curly hair swept around the small shapely waist. The red lightning bolt scar sat above Harry’s right eye, was the only thing the books had gotten right. 

“I won’t ever be friends with you, or marry a member of your family, on this I swear,” Harry hissed in anger, so full of rage the flash of magic at his words went unnoticed.

The redhead ran away terrified. A slow clap from behind made Harry turn around. 

“That was quite a show.”

Harry quirked a brow at the dark-skinned boy.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” The boy asked as his eyes looked Harry over.

“Right now I am,” Harry offered glibly.

“Blaise Zabini, a pleasure to meet you,” the boy introduced himself and reached for Harry’s hand.

As their clasped hands were held together, Harry melted into a twin of the boy. At first, Blaise jerked back but then grinned widely, “An excellent choice!”

Harry smirked and headed into the next aisle. Blaise followed him in. No sooner had the two started to peruse the titles and another person came stomping their way. This time it was a middle-aged frumpy red-headed woman, who could only be the mother of the two idiots he’d offended. Looking between Harry and Blaise she huffed, her cheeks ruddy, “Have either of you seen skinny boy with long black hair and green eyes?”

“No, my brother and I were just finishing up our school shopping, there hasn’t been anyone else around,” Harry offered politely.

“When I get my hands on that little no good rotten boy,” she growled prowling back to the other end of the shop.

Blaise started laughing. Harry elbowed the boy, “Shh she might come back.”

The only response was another guffaw, as Blaise howled in amusement, “I can’t wait to tell Draco about this,” he wheezed.

Harry ignored the comment finally narrowing his search for the last two books on his school list. 

“You should come to have lunch with us,” Blaise threw his own copy of the potions textbook into a basket.

Harry’s stomach growled loudly at the thought of food, “Er, maybe?”

“You must stay like that, please? My mother will completely freak out,” Blaise begged with a chuckle.

Harry shrugged, “Sure, why not?”

-0-

Harry hadn’t even known there were other alleys. As Blaise led Harry further into Horizont Alley, he began to feel a little underdressed and a lot outclassed. These were a different breed of stores and people to Diagon. Subtly, Harry transfigured his clothes until they were a match for his companions. 

“When did you do that?” Blaise plucked at Harry’s blazer.

“What? Your outfit was nicer than mine,” Harry muttered and pulled away.

Blaise puffed up like a peacock. Harry scoffed, his new friend was a complete narcissist, amusing though so, there was that. Actually it was pretty nice to just spend time with someone his own age for once and have them know who he was. 

Harry hadn’t meant to lose his mind in the book store and shift but was kinda glad it had happened now. Besides this was much better than running from those crazy men in the alley, or listening to some spoiled little ginger. Thinking of that though made Harry remember those books, and that comment the boy had made about the headmaster coming to their house. Petunia might have had the right idea about the end of the line clause. Did he really want to chance a magical guardian? Could that old man make him marry someone?

“Harry?”

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he realized that they were at the restaurant. His stomach growled again when he got a whiff of the smells coming from inside. 

“Our party should already be here, Zabini?” Blaise informed the employee. 

Harry grew a little nervous as he followed them further in. These were strangers. What if they were like Petunia used to be? 

Stopping in front of a table tucked into the back corner, Blaise smiled at the four people seated. 

“Where have you been darling, I told you fifteen minutes,” Blaise’s mother chided before picking up her wine glass.

“I made a new friend,” Blaise glanced behind him and saw that Harry was hiding. With a chuckle, he pulled on Harry’s arm until they were standing side by side.

His mother startled and wine sloshed out of her glass. Looking from Harry to Blaise with wide eyes she said, “Your new friend looks very familiar.”

“Harry this is my mother, Camilla Zabini. To the left are Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and their son Draco, everyone this is Harry.”

Finally being able to see the whole table, Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The Malfoys. He held fiercely to the visage of being Blaise’s twin and greeted the table.

“Hello, nice to meet you all,” Harry trying to come across as polite.

Sitting at a table across from Lucius Malfoy, was not how he imagined his afternoon ending. 

“Why does he look just like you?” Draco asked Blaise. 

With a smirk Harry relaxed back into the chair, chancing a look up at the elder Malfoys. Oh yes, they were both looking at him intently though not overly hostile. That could change once they realized who Harry really was. He felt safe enough at the moment though, they were in public after all.

“He was trying to get away from the Weasel’s in the book store,” Blaise snickered.

Camillia sighed, “Must you.”

“Yes,” Blaise jutted his chin, “I must. No one likes those blood traitors.”

“I certainly didn’t,” Harry reached for a breadstick after seeing everyone else had one on their plates.

Lucius didn’t laugh, but Harry could tell the man was amused. Perhaps when he wasn’t terrorizing muggles, he wasn’t so bad?

Draco sneered and laughed, “What were the weasel’s doing?”

“Well--”

Harry glared at Blaise and elbowed him.

“Manners,” Blaise tutted giving his attention back to Draco, “So, I was minding my own business.”

“Likely,” his mother sniffed.

Mrs. Malfoy was shifting between polite disinterest and open distain. Her face scrunching as though she‘s bitten into a lemon. 

“Then,” Blaise continued on to Harry’s mortification, “This beautiful red haired girl wandered out of the isle next to me.”

Harry sputtered and narrowed his eyes.

“Imagine my dismay when she stopped in front of the display of Potter books.”

“The weaslette is not beautiful,” Draco scowled.

“Manners,” Camilla chided again sharing a commissary look with the other adults at the table.

Lucius was now openly staring over at him. Harry resolutely ignored this and continued nibbling the bread.

“I never said she was if you’d just let me finish,” Blaise huffed.

“Do continue,” Lucius imperiously ordered looking every inch a medieval King holding court.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. This girl was beautiful, with blood-red hair and bright green eyes. Not some freckled weasel,” Blaise scoffed, “but then she stopped in front of the Potter books, plucking one right from in front of the crowd of blood traitors.”

“They were out in mass again?” Draco looked horrified and gave an exaggerated full-body shudder.

“Well, you know they can’t afford all those school books. The poor sods were crowded together so they could share.”

“Blaise.” Camilla hissed.

Blaise gave his mother an unimpressed shrug, “Then the girl started scowling and glaring at the book as though it offended her,” he chuckled.

Harry managed to blush. A true accomplishment given his abilities, “It did, those books are offensive.”

Lucius tilted his head slightly in interest.

“Weaselette plucked the book right from her fingers and wouldn’t give it back!”

“No.”

Blaise shook his head in amusement, “Oh yes,” he continued on in a sotto voice, “Harry Potter is a hero and you’re being mean!”

Harry paid close attention to Lucius as Blaise continued. The man’s nostrils flared and his eyes took on a steely glint. Harry swallowed nervously, hopefully, there would be an actual meal before he was murdered.

“Then,” Blaise lost all composer gasping for breath, “Then she said, that her mummy promised her she’d marry him someday!”

Harry sneered.

“So my beautiful girl stomped off, but then came back and told the weaselette,” Blaise placed his hand on his chest, “Your mother is a liar. Harry Potter wouldn’t marry you if you were the last girl on Earth!”

Draco choked with laughter.

“Boys,” Camilla hissed.

“After she ran away crying, her brother showed up,” Blaise smacked the table.

Camilla leaned over and placed her hand on top of her sons.

“The brother… he,” Blaise had to pause and wipe the tears from his eyes, “He said that the headmaster had come to their house.”

Lucius perked up leaning forward in his chair.

“What did the boy say to you? I’m afraid I was a bit distracted by your magic,” Blaise motioned for Harry to finish the story.

Harry sighed, “He said the headmaster promised him, he’d be best friends with the boy-who-lived and that when they were older, Potter would marry Ginny,” he finished with a scowl.

“He can’t do that, can he? Make someone marry against their will?” Harry asked the adults nervously.

The attention that question garnered made Harry lean back and wish desperately he’d kept his mouth shut. Lucius was looking predatory, the other two weren’t much better.

“Only a magical guardian can set up a betrothal,” Draco said unaware of the rising tension at the table.

Harry began to lose color. 

“Not nearly as handsome now,” Blaise pouted.

Pursing his lips, Harry focused on Blaise and settled his image.

“Better,” Blaise smiled.

Harry scoffed.

“I didn’t know he said that to you. The show you put on was just too much to ignore.”

“What show? What did you do to the Weasel?” Draco smiled meanly.

When Harry didn’t say anything Blaise was only too happy to continue the story, “He lost complete control of his ability, shifting through multiple faces and colors until he was himself.”

“Then,” Blaise smirked, “He said, ‘I’m never going to be your friend and vow, that I will never marry a member of your family!’.”

“Wait--”

“Are you--”

Blaise motion for them to be silent and said, “There was an actual flash of magic like he was able to make an unbreakable vow--all by himself!”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “Huh?”

Thankfully the waiter interrupted the coming inquest. As everyone else knew what they wanted, Harry just ordered the same thing as Blaise. But all too soon the party was left alone to scrutinize Harry.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” Draco asked with childlike glee.

“Not very often,” Harry murmured picking at the bread.

After getting an unimpressed glare, he amended, “Yes. I’m Harry Potter,” he rolled his eyes in contempt.

“Why don’t you like the books?” 

“Really Draco?” Blaise laughed.

“What? He’s famous!” Draco insisted.

Frowning Harry said with no small amount of vitriol, “Those things are marked as non-fiction. I didn’t even know about them. And I’ve certainly never seen a dragon, a banshee or saved a princess!”

“Well…yeah. But, how could you not have known about the books? You’re Harry Potter!” Draco exclaimed again.

Harry glanced around the surrounding tables, releasing a sigh of relief when no one appeared to be listening to their conversation.

“The headmaster,” Harry snarled bearing his teeth, “Trapped me with some muggles. Because I didn’t really have--my own--face,” he stumbled over the words as they triggered painful memories, “I couldn’t leave the house, or go to school, or have friends.”

Silence met this statement. Draco looked properly horrified on his behalf. 

“Why couldn’t you go outside?” Blaise asked somberly.

Harry’s eyes unfocused as he thought back to those days, “It took a really long time for me to have a stable image. Muggles don’t morph after all,” he quirked a brow at Blaise in irritation.

Plates were set in front of everyone, stalling the awkwardness for the moment. Harry focused on doing exactly as Blaise did, unsure of correct etiquette. 

In between prim bites, Draco asked, “What do you really look like?”

“Myself,” Harry shot back without remorse.

Draco pouted, “Come on Potter, show us. Please?”

Blaise whistled, “He even said please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Come on Harry,” Draco continued whining.

“Boys, stop your quarreling and eat,” Camilla gave all three boys a look.

Harry had no trouble following that order, shifting so much had really worked up his appetite. It was difficult pacing himself to match Blaise. 

“Please Harry,” Draco whispered across the table.

“Enough Draco,” Lucius reprimanded.

“But father--”

“I said enough.” Lucius never raised his voice but somehow managed to be quietly menacing.

Harry found it impressive, making a mental note to practice a quiet scary voice, once he was finally home. For the first time in his life, he wished Petunia was there. Unsure of what to do about everything that had happened today. He really needed a solicitor but didn’t know if they’d speak with him without a guardian present.

Reaching for another piece of bread, he heard Draco ask again despite the dressing down he’d just received. Well, he thought, Draco was braver than him. Lucius was frightening. Harry couldn’t imagine growing up with that man as his father. 

“Come on Harry.”

Lucius threw his napkin onto the table and glared down at his son. 

Harry huffed, “Fine, but only if you promise not to harass me anymore.”

Draco beamed, “I promise.”

Harry didn’t believe Draco for a second but was tired of listening to him whine. Letting out a sigh he relaxed his whole body, feeling it shrink somewhat. Pulling his long hair back over his shoulders and out of the way, he continued eating.

The blazer was too big in his base form, its sleeves were long enough to get in the way. After tugging at the sleeve twice, he put his hand on his chest and pushed the clothes to change back. With his fork halfway to his mouth, Harry looked up at the others and paused, “What?”

All four of them were staring at him with varying degrees of disbelief.

“You just did wandless magic!” Blaise said right as Draco blurted, “You look like a girl.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco not letting the boy distract him from the food any longer. 

“Do you like Quidditch?” Draco attempted to engage him again.

“That’s the one with the brooms, yeah?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

“What--of course! How can you not know for certain?” the other boy sputtered.

“Stuck with muggles, remember?” Harry quirked a brow, “You think that old goat fuck--”

“Language!” Camilla shouted right as Lucius gave a very inelegant snort of amusement.

“--er, would put me somewhere that I could go outside and play, no. He didn’t. I’ve been trapped in muggle London behind some sort of protections the old man put up,” Harry ranted through all their reactions as his eyes bled into a fiery red.

-0-

Harry leaned against the back of the front door and sighed in relief. Mustering the energy, he slunk across the room and collapsed on the couch. His late lunch with Blaise and the Malfoy’s had been interesting but tiring. 

Instead of murdering him, Lucius had offered to help him with his headmaster problems. While Harry didn’t trust Lucius one bit, the man seemed politically savvy. He’d also been impressed with the way people acted around Lucius. 

The deference and scrambling were funny. After Harry had turned down being apparated home by any of the adults present, they’d walked him to the edge of the alley. Where he could call the knight bus to take him home, unaided, as he had no desire to show Mr. Malfoy where he lived. All down the street the crowds parted for Lucius’ like Moses and the red sea. The man never got out of anyone’s way. Lucius just walked in a straight line and everyone else moved. 

For now, he was content to meet the man again tomorrow in Diagon. Lucius helped him get an appointment with his own barrister at Dodge E. & Dodge E.R. Harry had laughed until he cried when he’d finally noticed their names.

Lawsuit against the people responsible for those terrible books, check. Help from an adult with Ministry paperwork, check. An actual friend, check. Harry was glad he’d met Blaise, even if having him as a friend meant that pointy faced git, Draco would be around. Blaise had said that Draco would grow on him like fungus, Harry wasn’t sure he agreed. It would make going to school easier though knowing some of his classmates. 

-0-

Meanwhile and elsewhere an old man sat in quiet contemplation. He’d been surprised that the Dursley’s had let Harry have his letter and respond to it. Still, he thought it might be best to send someone for the boy tomorrow, to go and purchase his school things. It was doubtful that Petunia would have gotten over her hatred of magic enough to explain things to young Harry.

Hagrid, he thought, would be perfect for the job. The gentle giant was such a fan of the lad and could show him some much-needed kindness. Albus secretly feared he’d sentenced the boy to ten dark years. Of course, if Mrs. Figg were to be believed it was worse. He felt a pang of remorse if only he’d been able to raise the boy himself.

“Fawkes my friend, would you mind taking this to Hagrid?” He asked, eyes twinkling merrily as he held out the letter to his long-time companion.

Fawkes trilled and vanished in a flash of fire. 

-0-

Bang… Bang… Bang…

“Mrph,” Harry sighed into the couch cushion. Tired eyes blinked against the ray of sunshine that came in through the crack of the curtains, right across his face. Ergh. He’d slept right through to morning.

The door rattled and creaked as someone outside continued to beat at it. 

“What the…” Harry crouched down under the window to see who was at the door and blinked. There was a giant in surrey. It was a good thing Vernon wasn’t here. Harry could only imagine how his uncle would react.

Standing, he shifted into Aunt Petunia and transfigured his clothes. Swinging the door open she sneered up at the giant.

“Can I help you?” Harry said with no small amount of irritation when she saw the door was cracked and two seconds from breaking in half.

“I’m here fer Harry,” the giant grumbled.

“He isn’t here, and what do you mean anyway? You’re here for him,” she sniffed.

“Gonna take the lad to get ‘is school supplies s’all,” the man scratched at the bushy hair on his cheek.

She quirked a brow and tutted, “I’ve already gotten my nephew’s school supplies, thank you very much! As if I’d send him out with a stranger.”

“Ya listen here Dursley, don’t want any of yer lip. The boy’s going to Hogwarts no matter what ya say! Albus Dumbledore--”

Harry growled showing some of her teeth, “Of course my nephew is going to Hogwarts you oversized idiot! But, I’ll tell you where he isn’t going--anywhere with you!”

Slamming the door right in the giant's face, she considered the issue closed. Then the door broke in half and landed on the living room floor in pieces. She gasped and backed away as the giant stooped to come into the house.

“Get out! How dare you! Out!” She screeched.

“Harry!” the giant bellowed.

“Harry isn’t here!” She screamed shooing at him with her hands.

“Where is the lad, I’m not leaving without him,” the man rumbled, pushing further into the house and waving a pink umbrella in front of him.

Harry couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. While the giant stomped up the stairs, breaking several in the process, Harry ran over to the phone and called 999. 

“What’s your emergency?” 

“Yes, this man just broke my front door down and now won’t leave. He smashed part of the staircase and--”

“Where is he Dursley!?” The giant bellowed in the background.

“Go outside and stay safe, help is already on the way.”

Harry nodded absently to the phone, cringing at a loud crash and the sound of something breaking upstairs. Walking backward toward the now open doorway, she turned and quickly ran outside and hid behind the neighbor's car.

The sounds of sirens grew louder. Harry wrung her hands in worry as the police car pulled up to the house with sirens blaring and lights flashing. She knew without looking that everyone on the street was peeking out of their windows, spying on the increasingly embarrassing situation. 

As soon as the bobby got out of the car, she ran over and explained who she was and that she was the one that called. It was surprisingly easy to pass as Petunia. The policeman had no idea that the Dursley family was on vacation and Harry desperately hoped she wouldn’t need Aunt Petunia’s ID card. 

“Careful, he’s a giant!” She called out as the police officer made his way into the house.

Harry crept back into the house and sat on the edge of the couch, not wanting to deal with the neighbors. Already number six looked like she was ready to bolt over and grill, who the woman thought, was Petunia. Holding her face in her hands she sighed, what a nightmare. 

The giant, or Hagrid, as he’d bellowed at the bobby, complied and came downstairs peacefully. 

“She’s got em hidden somewhere!”

Harry rolled her eyes, “He isn’t hidden. He simply isn’t home right now, how many times do you need to be told something before it sticks?”

“So there is a child named Harry that lives here?” The officer asked.

“Yes, my nephew, Harry Potter. He went to a friend's house earlier,” she offered hoping that would be the end of it.

“What have ya done with em, eh muggle?” Hagrid fumed and pulled up the pink umbrella pointing it at her.

Harry’s eyes crossed as she looked at the glowing tip, then narrowed in realization. Before she could even dodge, the giant sent a hex that hit her square in the face. She gasped as horns grew right out of her forehead. Harry’s mouth hung open at the blatant breach of the statute for secrecy, 

While the hex wasn’t painful, it was irritating and extremely obvious. The officer shouted in alarm and backed away from Hagrid, stumbling toward the door. No doubt to call for back-up against the strange freaky people. At a loss as to how she could possibly save the situation, Harry leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes with a sigh.

Cracks of apparition could be heard coming from the back yard. Good Lord, she thought, what now?

Three Aurors ran around the side of the house and came inside right behind the muggle. 

“We have evidence of a breech in the statute of secrecy and underage sorcery,” one of the Auror’s informed them whilst the other two poked around.

“Underage sorcery,” she sputtered and pointed at Hagrid, “He’s the one that cursed me!”

“Hmm strange, it says Harry Potter on the report,” the man scratched his chin.

“He lives here, but he isn’t even home right now. This man,” she motioned toward Hagrid, “Came to my house unannounced and said Albus Dumbledore told him to take my nephew school shopping. Never even asked if it would be necessary, which I assure you it was not. I took my nephew shopping for his supplies already, thank you very much! Then he broke down the door, destroyed the staircase and refused to leave--stomping around breaking everything!”

Hagrid crossed his arms over his large barrel-shaped chest and grunted, “Albus told me yer didn’t want the lad ter go, said to take him no matter wha’ ya said!”

Harry looked over at the man in outrage, “What right does Albus Dumbledore have to order my family about! He’s not family! He has no say in my nephew’s life!”

“I’m afraid the muggle is right,” the Auror said not even really addressing Harry as a person.

“Dawlish, take care of the bobby and the neighbors. Jones I want you to repair the door and the damage inside, then head back to the Ministry and let Hopkirk know that it wasn’t the kid. The last thing we need is to charge Harry Potter with a crime he didn’t commit. I’ll handle things here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Obliviate! This was a false alarm, go back to the station and bury the report.”

“Repairo! Merlin, I don‘t think this door is ever going to look right again, ah well.”

Harry stewed as all this went on around her. “Do you think one of you can be bothered to remove the horns from my face, or is that asking too much?”

“Er, sorry. Finite!”

“Thank you.” she ground out between clenched teeth if these people made her miss the appointment with the barrister she was going to kill someone.

“I’m gonna have to take you into the Ministry Hagrid, sorry.”

Harry jerked and glared at the Auror. He was sorry?

“S’ok Kings, let Albus know what happened here would ya?” 

Her mouth hung open in impotent rage. Clearing her throat she finally got both of their attention again, “If Albus sends anyone over like this again, I’ll send Harry to a different school. This has crossed a line.”

Kings rolled his eyes, “Harry Potter isn’t going anywhere.”

She needed them out of the house. The rage was so great, a melt down was imminent. Soon she wouldn’t be able to help but to shift. Little tremors passed along her fingers as her nails began to sharpen into points. 

“Get out!” She hissed.

Kings led Hagrid away closing the repaired door behind him. She screamed in a rage after hearing the crack of apparition. Her emotions were so out of whack that, Harry didn’t notice the windows cracking.

Harry sat on the couch panting, his eyes glowing an ominous red. Glittering piles of shattered glass covered most of the floor around the couch. 

-0-

In the end, Harry had to wear a cloaked hood. His body was so unstable, he called the knight bus from the end of the driveway. It might have been more prudent to reschedule the appointment, but after the morning he’d had nothing was going to stop him. No one on the bus said a thing to him. He did garner a lot of mistrust and shifty eyed looks for wearing the hood down so low over his face, but Harry didn‘t care. 

The law offices of Dodge E. and Dodge E.R. was located just inside of Kockturn alley. No one there even batted at eye at his suspicious clothes. Strolling in with his cloak billowing out behind him, Harry made it just on time. After being lead into one of the offices in the back, Harry found that Lucius was already there waiting.

“I apologize for not being here early, Albus Dumbledore sent his pet giant to terrorize me.” Harry offered as he sat in the only free chair.

Pulling the hood back, he shrugged the cloak off letting it rest on the back of the chair. The three men in the room all watched in interest as Harry’s body continued to rebel. 

The man behind the desk cleared his throat and asked, “What giant?”

He brought his hands up to rub his eyes and winced as they became more feminine along with the rest of his body. Shaking in aggravation, she sighed, “I was alone in the house, so I pretended to be my Aunt and it just went tits up.”

The very corner of Lucius’ mouth twitched. 

“Yes, well. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. I’m Dunstan Dodge. Mr. Malfoy has given us an idea of the services you might require.” Dunstan stood and reached over to shake Harry’s hand.

“First I thought we could tackle the publishing company, Magical Me Press. It’s owned by Gilderoy Lockhart,” Dunstan chuckled, “The foppish twit also wrote them, sadly they’re a lot better than the man’s supposedly true adventure series about himself.”

“What can be done?” Harry’s voice cracked as he shifted back again.

“Are you alright Mr. Potter?” Dunstan gave Harry a look of concern.

“Fine, I’ll get it under control soon,” She whispered, moving her smaller body into the chair better.

“We’re going to sue for defamation of character, libel, and theft. Without a doubt, he’s getting shut down, but I’m not sure how much money the suit will bring.”

“This isssn’t about money,” Harry hissed as his hair blackened and his eyes burned red.

Lucius looked over at Harry sharply, letting out a little gasp.

Dunstan nodded, “Our team will start on preceding with the suit tomorrow at open, just sign the release,” he handed Harry the contract and a quill. 

After reading it over he nodded and signed, handing everything back.

“Our next order of business is the paperwork for emancipation. Because you are the last of your line, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Though there is the fear that the Chief warlock might bind us.”

“Who’s Chief Warlock?” Harry jerked and shrunk, hair now a violent blood red.

“Albus,” Lucius offered when all the others remained silent.

“I can’t keep living with muggles, not while I’m like this,” Harry shook in anger refusing to give up on the idea. 

Dunstan cleared his throat, “No one in their right mind would try and make you live with muggles, not with your--abilities.”

Harry nodded, platinum blond hair fell around his shoulders, “That’s good, I’d like to be able to go outside even on an off day.”

“I suppose all that’s left is to discuss what’s happened this morning?” Dunstan leaned away as he asked the question.

Thinking back on everything pushed Harry into another fit as his eyes unfocused. Unfortunately, they landed on the snake broach at Malfoy‘s throat, “He just broke into the house and said it didn’t matter because Albus told him too!”

Lucius shivered eyes closing to half mast, “In English Harry.”

“What?” 

“You were speaking in Parseltongue. None of us understood what you were saying,” Dunstan choked out, tapping his fingers on the top of his desk nervously.

“Er, you know what--forget that kid. Let’s just pull the memory and have a look in the Pensieve, sound good?” Dunstan offered.

“How do we do that?” Harry asked.

“Just think about when the incident began keep it there fresh in your mind, ok? And I’ll pull it out,” Dunstan approached Harry like a wounded animal, wand in hand and leaned forward slowly.

Harry watched the silver strand gathering at the end of the wand in rapt fascination. 

“When you watch that, er--remember that the woman is me,” Harry offered awkwardly.

“You don’t want to enter with us?” Dunstan asked as he placed the memory into the Pensieve.

“I think it’s for the best that I stay out here,” he grimaced at the idea of shifting so radically that he broke something. 

The three men disappeared into the Pensieve, giving Harry a small reprieve. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing and tried to meditate. After a few minutes, he felt himself begin to center. With relief, he leaned back in the chair in his base form. Colors were still shifting, but nothing else was.

-0-

The three men stood in the swirling memory watching as Kingsley Shacklebolt led Hagrid out the house. Expecting the pensieve to eject them, they were all quite surprised when instead the woman sitting on the couch morphed into Harry Potter. 

Lucius winced as the boy began to scream. Green eyes bleed into a vibrant red, as the young man’s hair turned black. 

“I’m quite sure he didn’t mean for us to see this,” Dunstan murmured as all the items in the living room began to levitate.

The windows in the house exploded in a shower of glass, as Harry panted. Curling into himself as his body shook out of control, cycling through different faces, flipping between sexes. 

“Sweet Merlin, I can’t believe Albus has him with muggles,” Lucius muttered in awe as the epic display of accidental magic continued to play around them.

The memory of the boy jerked, shrinking into a small red-headed girl with vibrant green eyes.

“His mother,” Dunstan murmured as they were flung from the Pensieve.

Lifting his head from the bowl, Lucius saw that Harry was sitting calmly in the chair. He’d seen this face once before when his son had begged the boy to change into himself. 

“Are you feeling better Mr. Potter?” Dunstan sat back behind his desk and began pulling out more Ministry forms.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, let’s talk about what we can try to do. This is tricky because if we say that really was your Aunt, then it was muggle baiting, which is a crime and punishable by law. It could sentence Hagrid to six months in Azkaban prison, however, we all know that wasn’t really your aunt. And she would be required under law to testify against the wizard. Since she can’t do that, we’re limited,” Dunstan clasped his hands on top of the desk and leaned forward.

“If I understand correctly you were left alone in the house for quite a while?” Dunstan trailed off.

“The Dursley’s went to Majorca for a three-week vacation, they should get back day after next,” Harry offered with a small nod, not in the least bit bothered.

The same could not be said of the adults. Dunstan frowned heavily causing the worry lines around his eyes to deepen, “You seem to come from a background of abuse and negligence…”

“It’s better than it was. Better to be ignored than enslaved, forget that though,” Harry waved a hand, “I don’t care about the Dursley’s.”

Lucius clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed to slits, “Filthy muggles.”

“It could be worse,” Harry smiled, “Albus could be my full-time guardian and send me to the Weasels.”

Lucius looked over at Harry with a fondness he rarely felt for anyone other than his wife and son, “True.”

“Weasels?” Dunstan glanced between them.

“The Weasley’s,” Lucius chuckled,

Dunstan’s assistant snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough.

“What I propose is that you allow me to bring Madam Bones into this. She’s a light witch, but not a fan of Albus’. See if she can help get your emancipation through. If she can’t, I’d like to make up a list of possible guardians and take the Dursley’s to task.”

Harry sighed, “I really don’t want anything bad to happen to them. Don’t get me wrong, I want to leave, but…”

Dunstan tapped his fingers against the desktop in aggravation, “Would your Aunt and Uncle sign away their rights to you?”

“Oh, yeah. In a heartbeat. To a stranger,” Harry laughed hysterically to their growing dismay.

Sharing a look with Lucius, Dunstan gave Harry a firm nod and tapped the desk one last time, “I’ll send you home with the paperwork. You say they’ll be home day after next? I ask because this will need to happen quickly so no one has a chance to stop us.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Harry offered.

“A guardian relinquishing their rights puts you in a precarious position. We can’t have people crawling out of the woodwork trying to get you into their custody. We need a preemptive list,” Dunstan said and actively avoided Lucius’ gaze as he refocused his attention to Harry.

“Because of your fame, and the current political climate, most will want to see you with one of Dumbledore’s ilk.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “No.”

“We run the risk of--well that is to say… well, there are many people out there that fought on--”

Harry waved a hand, “For the Dark Lord, yes, I know. I don’t really care.”

“You might eventually,” Lucius said with little emotion.

With a groan Harry shook his head, “I don’t know many people, so I wouldn’t know who to add to any kind of list. I’d prefer it if we could just keep working towards emancipation. I have enough funds to rent a place. Not to mention, seven months out of the year I’ll be at Hogwarts.”

-0-

Petunia sighed in relief when she opened her nephew's door and found him sleeping soundly in bed. She hadn’t been able to enjoy the vacation a single bit. It was a bitter pill to swallow. It wasn’t all just worry either, she’d missed him as well. Walking quietly across the room on the balls of her feet, she stood over him.

“Aunt Petunia,” Harry mumbled voice coarse with sleep.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just,” she wrung her hands and looked away from those too green eyes, “I just wanted to check on you is all.”

Harry snorted and patted her on the hand, “Lots of crazy things happened while you were away.”

Petunia sat and listened with growing horror, as he recanted to her all that had happened. She was particularly bothered when he’d told her what those--people--had done to him, thinking that it was her! Of going to a solicitor all alone, she sniffled wiping at her cheeks. Of course, they’d discussed Harry filing for emancipation, it just all felt so sudden. Hadn’t she wanted that? 

“Yes Harry, I’ll sign them,” she nodded stubbornly wiping at her eyes, willing them to dry up.

“Will you be ok?” He asked.

Her heart lurched into her throat. She tried to swallow down the bile that rose, to push down the feelings she kept having. 

“I imagine that I’ll be fine,” she managed with no small effort to keep her voice even, “You--ah, you deserve so much more,” leaning down she kissed the top of his head and backed out of the room.

In her bedroom she lay next to Vernon that night, staring into the shadows. It had been terrible when she’d realized just how bad of a person she had become. Worse when she finally figured out what that feeling was. She loved Harry.

-0-

The head of the DMLE was an odd woman. She scrutinized him from across the old oak desk. Finally settling on, “You’re eleven. That law is archaic.”

Harry blurted the first thing that stomped through his eleven-year-old mind, “You have a monocle. I’d like you if for no other reason,” he shrugged sinking back into his chair.

She quirked the brow over the monocle-less eye.

“What? I thought we were spouting random facts?” 

“Alright, Mr. Potter, humor aside let's get down to business. I need proof in the form of memories, that it would be in your best interest. Then I have a standardized test for aptitude. I need to know that you can care for yourself, cook, shop, clean, balance a bank book. Those kinds of things.”

He spent the next half-hour pulling memories out and putting them into marked vials for her. Afterward, she gave him the exam, which made him weep inside for anyone stupid enough to fail it. 

“Our biggest hurdle will be getting this process completed without drawing the ire of the Chief Warlock. Your memories and testing will be reviewed and then presented before the Wizengamot. As is always done when the petitioner is under fifteen. Albus’ block will probably vote against you, but,” she eyed him shrewdly, “I hear you have the ear of Lucius Malfoy. If the traditionalists vote in your favor, it will be a done deal.”

“Doesn’t the Chief warlock reside over each assembly?”

Madame Bones beamed down at him, “Yes indeed he does, however, Albus has three jobs. Once a year he travels to Geneva for a small conference with the ICW. We will present our case the day he leaves,” she winked at him from behind the monocle.

-0-

Four days later Harry found himself seated before a full meeting of the Wizengamot. Madam Bones had said that his nervous habit of shifting would work in his favor, as it truly showed how difficult it was for him to be out in the muggle world. Part of him wanted to balk, he’d worked very hard at mimicking after all. The fact remained, he’d only ever managed short trips to the shops or the library. With that in mind, he relaxed and let himself go.

Dunstan Dodge and Madam Bones presented his case before the body of peers, while he sat nearby. It was eerie, the feeling of all those eyes focused on him. And it was, him, that they were watching. 

A Pensieve capable of projecting the memories above it was placed in the center of the room. With his permission, the hall had been treated to a brief rundown of his life thus far. Some things were difficult to watch, so out in the open. The days before he’d had a name, were surely some Harry would rather have hidden away. He’d forgotten how bad it felt, to be called freak.

In the end, what Madam Bones had said was true. Lucius Malfoy was the first to light his wand during the call to vote. The traditionalists followed his lead. Most did really, all but ten or so. He made a mental note to find out who those people were. Harry wanted names so that he could be sure to avoid them if at all possible.

“This August body finds in favor of the petitioner, Mr. Harry Potter. As of this day, he will be considered an adult in the eyes of the law. At this time--”

The doors at the back of the room swung open, smacking against the wall. Clattering loudly, the noise echoed through out the chamber, bringing attention to Albus Dumbledore. 

“We call this session to a close--”

“Wait!” Albus protested moving swiftly into the room.

“So mote it be,” the acting Chief Warlock, Trent Ogden spoke, closing the meeting.

The entire hall repeated the phase as the lights were brought back up and people began to stand.

“Amelia, what have you done?” Albus asked in a grave tone as though he were altogether horrified. 

“Cleaned up after you, a common theme I assure you. By the way, your man Kingsley can work for you full time now. Might want to find him a new job, one that pays, since you helped get him fired from the DMLE.”

Albus looked truly flummoxed, “Harry can’t leave Privet Drive Amelia, there are powerful blood wards there that--”

Harry’s eyes bled red and his hair blackened, “I’m never going back there. It was never a home, only a prison that you helped place me in. The Dursley’s aren’t my family, not truly, this matter is closed, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“The wards,” Albus despaired looking every year his age at that moment.

“Your family won’t be protected now. Those wards keep them safe as well.” The old man added with a look of disappointment.

Harry appraised Albus, “A guilt trip, really? I spoke with Petunia before this process started. She and Vernon have already moved. We were all aware that they were vulnerable to other wizards. Coincidentally, they include you in that number. They hate you in fact. My Aunt feared you, more than she ever gave thought to the dark lord.”

The look of utter failure that crossed the man’s face, felt like a victory. 

Gravely the man addressed him one last time, “Harry, there’s been a series of unfortunate misunderstandings here. I never meant to make you suffer, only keep you safe.”

“Safe,” Harry repeated the word like a slow-acting poison, letting it roll around his mouth and gather on his tongue.

“So safe, I couldn’t even leave the house, have friends, or go to school. Did you know the first time I was able to go outside, I was almost eight?”

Albus shook his head in confusion. Harry simplified the issue for him letting his body morph through several changes.

“I was safely a prisoner in a muggle neighborhood, stuck with a woman who didn’t consider me to be human. They called me ‘IT’ instead of he or she, ‘Thing’ in place of boy or girl. Yes, I was Safe.”

Albus grayed into a sickly pallor at his words. Harry’s words were more obvious weapons, after all, having foregone something as subtle as guilt.

“Unlike my parents, I have no intention of letting you use me. I won‘t be some tool, some child soldier. Stay away from me.”

He stood and walked away, hoping to see very little of the man once he started school. 

-0-

Gilderoy Lockhart Arrested  
By Andy Smudgly

In a closed hearing the popular author was brought up on charges of Libel, and gross fraudulent misrepresentation of a minor. In correlation with the ‘Harry Potter Adventure’ series. Mr. Potter sued Mr. Lockhart’s company, Magical Me Press, for using his name without permission and for having marked the books as non-fiction.

While at trial the validity of his own true-tales was brought to question. After evidence that Mr. Lockhart had stolen memories from others and then obliviated them. Thus far three of his victims have been found and had their memories returned to them. 

For more on Gilderoy Lockhart’s past publications, turn to page 4.

Harry sat the paper on the table and smiled into his glass. Things had really been looking up since Madam Bones had helped him to buy and ward a building in Diagon Alley. It had been his account manager Grimshot that recommended the idea. They’d found a building with six apartments and an empty store front, for sale on the street across from the bank. For now the store would remain empty; however, all the extra apartments were rented out. 

Not that anyone could remember there were six apartments anymore. The Fidelius was a truly amazing spell. With Madam Bones as his secret keeper, Harry doubted he’d ever be betrayed. She’d been quite leery of him giving the location of his apartment to Blaise and his mother, but Harry didn’t think it would be an issue. While Camilla Zabini had quite the reputation for killing her many husbands, the woman was never a supporter of the Dark Lord. Even if she was friends with the likes of the Malfoys, Harry was certain the woman meant him no harm. She’d been too amused that her little bambino had befriended the boy-who-lived, to do anything untoward. With a fidelius in place, Harry didn’t even have to worry about the two telling anyone else.

The floo chimed just as Harry was washing up his dishes from breakfast.

“Harry?”

“In the kitchen, Blaise,” Harry yelled back in anticipation.

They were going to go see a Quidditch game in Holyhead later. Camilla had gotten the tickets and agreed to chaperone, unfortunately Draco was going as well. 

“Are you ready to floo back to my house? Since Draco can’t floo into your apartment,” Blaise added with a smirk.

“How much was he whining about that?” Harry chuckled.

“Only for the entire morning,” Blaise retorted.

-0-

As the boys stepped out of the floo, they were met by Camilla and an elderly man. Blaise stiffened and studiously avoided eye contact with either adult. 

“Harry! It’s so good to see you,” Camilla greeted him and kissed both of his cheeks.

“This is my husband Ernesto, darling this is my little bambino’s friend, Harry,” she said and introduced the two.

Harry was in a state of shock. Ernesto looked every day of a hundred. Compared to Camilla’s youthful appearance it was a startling difference. Perhaps, he thought, the woman wasn’t killing her husbands at all, just marrying them right before nature did the job. 

“Yeah, they’ve met each other. Let’s go, Harry,” Blaise grabbed Harry’s hand and practically drug him from the room in search of Draco.

The other boy didn’t say a word until they were safely out of hearing range of the adults, “I can’t believe she had him here this morning!”

They found Draco hiding away in Blaise’s room. He laughed as they walked in.

“Did your mum introduce Ernesto to Harry?”

Blaise growled and tossed a book off the nearby table at Draco’s head. The blond ducked and yelled, “Hey! It isn’t my fault your mum marries ancient muggles!”

Both Draco and Blaise shuddered convulsively at the admission. At Harry’s questioning look, Blaise explained, “My mother is a Succubus, her lovers frequently die. In Italy, it’s legal for her to target muggles.”

Harry blinked, his mouth opening and closing, unable to think of a response. He hadn’t even known that Succubi were real. 

“Do they know?” Harry asked more curious than horrified.

Blaise sneered and rolled his eyes, “They do. Nearly all of them have health problems and she makes their last months... pleasant,” the boy settled on.

When Harry didn’t respond, Blaise looked a little panicked, “She wouldn’t hurt you!”

Harry held out his hands and said, “I didn’t think she would. Sorry, I was just, er. . . Surprised is all. I didn’t know that Succubi were real,” he admitted.

Draco shook his head and lamented, “It’s awful that you grew up with muggles.”

Blaise flopped down onto the edge of his bed and scoffed, “Ernesto is the only muggle you’ve ever met.”

“Shut up,” Draco replied.

Harry tuned the two out and wandered around the room, looking at the toys and books. Vaguely he listened as Draco told some ridiculous story about running into a helicopter on his broom. As though that made him some sort of expert on muggles. 

“Don’t you think so Harry?”

“Huh?” Harry sat the figurine he’d picked up back onto the shelve and turned around.

“Weren’t you listening?” Draco asked, looking wholly offended.

At the knock on the door, all three boys turned. Camilla poked her head into the room and said, “It’s time to go boys!”

All of them perked up and darted out of the room after her. 

-0-


End file.
